


From the Outside In

by Boxerwing



Series: The Strength of a Triangle [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Good BDSM Etiquette, Knitters are kinky too, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship(s), Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Self-Esteem Issues, Service, Shibari, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boxerwing/pseuds/Boxerwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Q are looking for a third for their relationship.  Amanda is looking for a Dom.  They all have problems.</p>
<p>A story about relationships, communication, BDSM, and the benefits of fibre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Outside In

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: 
> 
> This has been neither betaed nor Brit-picked. If you catch something wrong, don't hesitate to comment. Hey, give a comment anyway!
> 
> Although the violence not extensively described, the warnings are there for a reason. The smut, however, is explicit.

The barest of movements broke into my field of view, and I quickly looked up from the project on my desk. _Well that’s rather surprising: 007. What’s he down here for?_ I worked in R &D, a subdivision of Q-Branch. My workspace consisted of a desk and some tables in the corner of a large storage room and since it was off the beaten path, no one ever came by unless they were horribly lost.

“Yes?” I asked, curious at how the agent looked slightly uncomfortable. “Can I direct you somewhere, Agent?”

007 cleared his throat and suddenly he was all charm. “I’m looking for an Amanda that works in R&D. Could you tell me where to find her?” he said with a smooth smile.

I leaned back in my chair. _Why would any 00, especially 007, be looking for me?_ “You found her. What do you need, Agent?”

The uncomfortable look returned to 007’s face. “I wanted to thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Q told me who made the socks for me.”

Ah. Well that explained it.

When the most recent Q took the Quartermaster position, the Quartermaster Branch and R&D were a mess. Higher-ups were pushing for more efficiency and streamlining of the budget, which meant restructuring and a loss of jobs. Q’s superiors had wanted to eliminate my position, but Q stood up for me by calling my position “a necessity for the positive results of the 00’s missions”.

Now, I don’t code, or invent anything, or discover intelligence. What I do do is take the inventions Q and R&D create and make them _believable_. Q and R &D are geniuses at what they do: they invent newer, smaller, more sensitive technology, but generally the aesthetic quality of their inventions is crap. I make items look vintage, or couture, or valuable, or like they came from an op-shop: whatever is needed to help agents in their missions. It wouldn’t do to send an agent into a mission undercover as a person in a long term marriage with a brand new wedding ring (that just happened to have an important piece of technology in it). I also incorporate tech into clothing, personal items, travel bags and the like, as well as repairing items when they come back from a mission.

I always appreciated that Q went to bat for me, and that I got to keep my job.

That first Christmas with the new Q, I crocheted him a set of tiny sweaters for his Christmas tree, in honour of his infamous cardigans. When Q returned to work after Christmas, he found me and, with the bright eyes of a child who got all his Christmas wishes at once, told me how much he loved the little sweaters. His mum had knit when he was a child and therefore he ended up loving cardigans and sweaters. His mum had long since passed, but the tiny decorations reminded him of good times with her.

After that, Q occasionally came down to my workspace to talk about cardigans and my hobbies: spinning yarn, crocheting, knitting and fibre. The fibre arts was not a topic that he knew much about but he wanted to know more to see if he could incorporate any knowledge into new inventions. It rarely did, and there were times Q came down just to chat. I always enjoyed our chats; Q was smart, funny, and easy on the eyes. It was also a bit flattering to have such a beautiful young man want to talk to me that I also might have developed a teeny little crush on him. I'd never have acted on my feelings as I knew he and 007 were dating, but I certainly didn't feel guilty for having a little joy in my dreary life.

Then, 007 went MIA. Q’s visits slowed, then stopped. Months went by, and from the glimpses I saw of him as he passed my door, he was losing weight. Around the same time, my own life was going to shit. My husband Stephen and I were having difficulties and we ended up separating, then divorcing. I needed something to keep my mind occupied from the quietness of my new, lonely flat, and so I decided to knit up a cardigan for my favourite boffin, hopefully to keep him warm. I gave him the finished sweater the day before 007 returned to MI6. Before Q went off for an extended vacation with his partner, he sent me a quick email saying that the cardigan I gave him was now his “lucky cardigan” because it helped bring James back to him. That had been a few years ago. Now, Q and 007 were in a long term relationship, and they seemed happy.

Just recently, Q had come to me asking me to do a knitting commission for him. It seemed that as 007 was getting older, his feet felt the cold more. Q was wondering if I could spin some yarn that included some self-heating fibre, then knit some socks that would keep 007’s feet warm on long stake outs. Q told me this information was strictly classified, as any weakness of a 00 could be exploited by the wrong people. I agreed and I spun the yarn and knit the socks on my own time. Q paid me generously.

Now, 007 was here, in front of me, thanking me.

“You’re quite welcome, 007, but really you need to thank Q more. He’s the one who created the self-warming fibre. Besides, Q paid me to do them.”

“But you did them on your own time, right?”

“Yes, but Q is a good man and he did ask me very politely,” I shrugged. “I spin and knit in my spare time, so it’s not like he was putting me out. Anyway, just let me know if you need me to darn them or anything. Repairs are free for the lifetime of the socks.”

“Or the lifetime of the owner,” 007 smirked back, and I nodded solemnly. “You made Q that ‘lucky cardigan’ of his, didn’t you?” he said. I nodded again. The confused looked slowly slid back onto his face. “Well, thank you again, Amanda.”

007 turned to leave, and I said quickly, “You know, 007, Q swore me to secrecy. I’d never tell anyone about your socks.”

007 turned and said, “Didn’t think you would.” He gave me one of his trademark sultry grins, and left.

~~~~~

The meeting with 007 played on my mind for the rest of the day. Sure, he seemed genuinely appreciative, it wasn’t that. It was that strange, confused look he had on his face, like he recognized me but couldn’t place me.

Pushing the conversation from my mind, I plowed through the last of my work for the day. I was desperately glad it was Friday; the week had been a long one with a number of rush jobs and more than a few projects that needed tweaking by the request of one agent or another.

It was Saturday night I was really looking forward to. Only a few blocks from my flat there was a small BDSM club, Martha’s, where I was a regular at and there was going to be a shibari demonstration that I wanted to see.

I was a submissive, or "sub", strictly. After being in and out of the scene for a long time, I finally knew what I wanted. Part of the reason my husband and I split was because he wasn’t the Dom I deserved, and I finally accepted that he would never change. The other reason was he was fucking around on me. I got tired of not having my needs met and I could no longer put up with Stephen screwing around. Yes, I probably should have gotten out of a bad situation sooner, but at least I had, and now I had the rest of my life ahead of me.

I knew I wasn't pretty or beautiful. I had more than a few extra pounds hanging around, was middle aged, and had a bland face. I also had weird hobbies (more than one date had commented, “Why would you knit socks when you can get them at Tesco?”), a demanding job that I couldn’t really talk about, a failed marriage behind me, and one or two other problems too.

I had tried a few scenes at Martha’s with some different Doms, or “Dominants”, but could never really find one I could click with. My needs as a sub always seemed too limiting for a lot of Doms: no humiliation, no pain, no calling him or her “Sir” or “Master” or “Mistress”. I was a sub, not a slave nor a masochist, and a lot of Doms couldn’t deal with that. All I wanted was to let someone else make the decisions; let someone else take control. I just wanted to fly and be cherished, and in return I would give my submission to them. Obviously, it was too much to ask for, as I hadn’t been in a Dom/sub relationship since I kicked Stephen out. I got along with a number of Doms and subs at Martha’s, and I did play from time to time, but none of the scenes left me completely fulfilled. I had resigned myself to being on the outskirts of the BDSM scene and that there was no Dom out there for me.

~~~~~

Saturday night came, and I got dressed up in a simple silky fuchsia tank top covered by an oversized white button-down left out and open and a pair of plain grey slacks. I finished my outfit in high suede pumps in the same colour as my tank. I grabbed my purse and a few condoms (one could hope), and headed out into the cool spring night.

By the time I got there, Martha’s was already filling up even though it was still early. I wandered over to the bar and ordered an orange juice with ice; if the opportunity arose I didn’t want to have any alcohol in my system. I found a quiet corner table with a good view of the stage and settled in. A few people I recognized came over to say hello, but by the time the demonstration was to start, they all left for their own tables. I got myself comfortable as the lights in the main area dimmed, and lights on the stage brightened.

Shibari had interested me since I had first heard it in the early 2000’s. I had always been into restraints and Stephen was fine with things like cuffs, but shibari had never appealed to him; too much work he said. I had daydreamed that the mystical Dom who would want me for as I was would also be into shibari, but that seemed like a long shot in my world.

I saw two men walk out on stage.

_Oh, fuck my life_ , I thought.

The first one, tall, lanky, and with dark messy hair was wearing a royal blue shirt and black trousers. Delicious. _Q_. The other man, blond and muscular, was wearing a simple white tee and blue jeans. Mouth-watering. _007_.

I wasn’t ashamed of my needs or desires, but to look at Q or 007 at MI6 and have them know I was in the BDSM scene seemed like too much information for them to have. No one else at work knew about my kinks and I had no desire for anyone to learn about them, especially my boss and a special agent. I needed to get out of there before they saw me.

Of course I was on the side of the club furthest away from the exit. There had been extra tables set up in front of the stage for the demonstration, and there was no way I was going to be able to wiggle my butt between them without pissing a lot of people off. I also knew the people on the stage were able to see the members of the audience clearly; the main lights weren’t that dim because the demonstrators needed to see the audience to acknowledge if anyone had questions.

While I was trying to plan my escape, Q and 007 were getting set up on the stage. 007 was stripping off and Q was laying out some blankets, pillows and his rope. Martha herself was introducing “Jeffery and Jim”, and had invited anyone who wanted to look at the setup before the demonstration started were welcome to come up and join them.

I figured while people were heading up to the stage, I could wend my way to the exit. I was almost through the tables when I heard a quiet, firm voice behind me.

“Leaving before the demonstration?” asked Q.

I slowly turned around, a blush reddening my face. “Umm, yeah. Left my iron on.”

“Right,” replied Q, a grin on his face. “Don’t want to see your boss and an agent like this?”

“No! That’s not it at all! It’s just…iron…”

Q’s smile softened. “Oh. You don’t want us to know about you. You know we’d never say anything to anyone at work, right?”

“Of course. It’s just…well…you know.”

Q crossed his arms and his grin increased. “No, actually I don’t, since you’re not really saying anything. Please stay. Nothing that happens here goes beyond these walls. Now, would you like to see the rope? As a spinner, you might be interested in the twist and the fibre. It’s really quite lovely…”

I hesitated, my face still vibrantly red. As much as I wasn’t ashamed of who I was, I didn't want Q or 007 to see me _like that_ : a fat, middle aged woman sub interested in shibari. I didn’t want them to see me like that because I already felt like a failure for being unable to find a Dom. I didn’t want their _pity_.

“The ropes are soft as silk. It’s an amazing man-made fibre that has organic qualities; knots don’t loosen like they would with regular man-made fibres. Jim can tell you how they feel on…”

God, how I wouldn’t love to go up there and pet the ropes, just a little bit. And to see what 007 looked tied up, and to imagine how it would feel…

“Come on, umm, what’s your name here?”

“Still the same as always, Amanda. But really, I can’t…”

“It’s fine. Maybe another time, okay? I’ve got to head back up to the stage.”

I nodded and Q headed back up to the stage. He leaned over and whispered to 007, who looked at me, gave me a little smile, and a small head bow.

I ran from Martha’s as fast as I could.

~~~~~

Monday came and any thoughts I had that Q would out me at work were immediately quashed. When we met for our Monday meeting to go over projects needed for that week, Q talked to me like he had done every other Monday: professionally and warmly.

At the end of the meeting, Q said, “Amanda, I have a request for another knitting commission.”

“What do you need? Does 007 want more socks?”

“No. Sniper gloves. Well, more like sniper glove liners, something very light but warm. Do you have any more yarn left?”

“Hmm, nothing of the right thickness. I’ll have to spin up some that’s a bit finer than the yarn I did for his socks. Might take a while, Q.” 

“No rush, Amanda. It’s spring, so do you think you could have them done by the start of winter?”

I gave Q a smile. “No problem. Just send over more self-heating fibre when you have time. And I’m going to have to have some accurate measurements and the amount of negative ease 007 wants.”

“I’ll send 007 down to you this afternoon, if that’s okay.”

“You don’t have his measurements on file somewhere?”  

Q laughed. “I do, but it’s weirdly classified. Besides, he can talk to you about fit and ease and such too.”

“Okay then, send him down when he’s available. I’ve got nothing time-sensitive going on today, so after lunch should be fine.”

“Thanks, Amanda. I do really appreciate it.”

I blushed, just a little. “Anytime, Q.”

~~~~~

True to Q’s word, 007 came by my workspace close to 15:00. I needed a break anyway, and measuring 007’s hands would be a welcome distraction. 007 let me take measurements, then we talked a bit about ease, fit, and any alterations from a regular glove pattern that he required. I took a few more measurements then 007 stood to go, or so I thought. Instead, he closed the door.

“Amanda, why did you leave early on Saturday night?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to answer that, 007.”

“No, no you don’t. But Q and I both wanted to know.”

“Why? It doesn’t matter.”

He shook his head. “Of course it does.” He leaned over my desk, his hands on the edge. “You left early, before the demonstration even began. You looked uncomfortable and uneasy with Q. You normally go to Martha’s, don’t you? Q and I have been there a few times before; I’m pretty sure I recognize you from there. I can only assume you left because of us.”

I leaned back, increasing the space between us. “Think what you like. You’re not my mother and I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“I’m not your Dom either.”

I winced involuntarily at that, and 007 saw. “No, you’re not my Dom, and neither is Q. Neither of you own me.”

“You’re right. Neither of us own you, Amanda.” 007’s straightened up and went to open the door. “Neither of us ever want to own anyone, ever.” With a smile, he opened the door and left.

~~~~~

What in the ever loving fuck did 007 mean? Bully for them if they don’t want to own anyone, I supposed. Why tell me that? I shook my head. Not being “owned” was a hard limit for me; there was no way any Dom was going to convince me to be owned by them. If I was in a long-term relationship with a Dom I’d be honest and faithful, but the thought of having a collar slapped on me like a dog made me cringe. I wondered if Q and 007 were into that sort of thing. I didn’t remember seeing a collar on 007 at Martha’s, but that didn’t mean a whole lot.

My mind started to drift. I started to wonder what type of Dom Q was, and what type of sub 007 was. I couldn’t imagine Q using 007 as a footstool or making him kneel in a corner with his nose on the wall for hours if he “misbehaved”, some things Stephen would do to me. Who knows, perhaps they did, and as long as it was consensual between them, then more power to them.

Q had never struck me as the Dom type. Sure, he was the head of Q-Branch, but there was a softness to him that seemed, to me, the antithesis of a person who liked to dominate others. And James Bond, 007 himself, was the last person walking the earth I would have ever pegged as a sub. He was a walking, talking, Alpha male. But then I never guessed those two would ever stay together, never mind the betting pool Q-Branch had going on before they started dating.

Anyway, Q was my boss and 007 was 007 and their relationship was no business of mine. Even if they did public demonstrations of shibari.

~~~~~

The week flew by with jobs flying out of my workstation as fast as they entered. I didn’t have plans for the weekend except shopping and cleaning the flat, so I was surprised when I fished my phone out of my purse when I got home Friday night. There was a notification from Martha to call her back.

Martha had owned a much larger BDSM-focused club a long time ago. When she decided to downsize for a more intimate atmosphere, a lot of her customers followed her. She kept a voluntary database of her regulars’ wants, and if a regular wanted help finding someone with particular desires, she could set them up. She didn’t do this for just anyone and certainly not for money; she just knew how difficult it was for people with certain kinks or limits to find one another. It was only in the last few months that Martha had offered to put me in her database because she knew I was rather particular and wanted me to have a chance to find someone.

I had never received a call from Martha before, and her message was happily surprising. I knew a lot of Martha’s customers were not in London much of the year, so it really didn’t shock me that someone had just asked about me. She had a couple who wanted to talk, a M/M Dom/sub couple, whose requests dovetailed nicely with my needs. Martha assured it was totally voluntary and I could leave the talk, no questions asked, if we didn’t suit. Martha also offered to be present for the talk too, if I wanted. She had left a time they wanted to meet, Saturday at 19:00, and she wanted me to call her back if I was interested or not. I called Martha back and got her voice mail, so I left a message saying I was interested and that I did want her there as backup. I trusted Martha and knew she wouldn't set me up with anyone sketchy, but it was nice to have that bit of extra support.

I was curious, and more than a bit nervous when Saturday evening approached. Like a teen on their first date, I tried on a number of outfits before I settled on simple, classic and comfortable: a slim-fitting, black, slinky v-neck tee with black, straight leg slacks and poppy-red stilettos. I felt good, and most of all, myself.

I took a taxi to Martha’s, and got there a bit early. I went to the bar and let Shel, the bartender, know I was there and asked him to see if he could get Martha as she was expecting me. Shel smiled and winked at me, pushed an orange juice in front of me, and went off to find Martha. They returned quickly, and Martha reiterated that I could stop the meeting at anytime, and I nodded in acknowledgement. She then guided me to the back of the club, where the play rooms were. That was strange, as usually any negotiations were done in one of the booths along the side of the club. The booths were each separated by a significant distance so conversations wouldn't be overheard, but were in public so no one should be forced in to doing something against their will. Martha was all about safety, which was just one of the reasons I trusted her.

Martha led me down past some of the larger play rooms, and turned down a hallway where some smaller play rooms were located. We stopped in front of one door, and Martha knocked. A male voice said, “Come." Martha opened the door and we entered.

_Fuck my life. Twice._

Of course it had to be Q and James. Q was smiling gently in recognition and James had a smirk on his face. Anger flared within me and my colour heightened.

“You two! And you,” I turned to Martha. “How did they convince you to get me here?”

Martha looked confused. “They didn’t convince me, hon. When I saw them last week, they put in a couple’s request for my database. I knew you’d suit them so I set this up, that’s all.”

“You’re not kidding, are you?” My anger towards Martha eased.

“Of course I’m not kidding. They never mentioned anyone by name, and I was the one to match you up.”

I looked back over to Q and James. James was sitting in a chair and was wearing a sky-blue button-down and slate trousers. Thick, dark red rope was wrapped around his wrists and both hands lay comfortably in his lap. The remainder of the rope was coiled further up on his lap, and the end was held by Q who was standing next to James. Q was wearing all black: a button-down and slacks.

“Finished jumping to conclusions?” James said.

Q put his hand on James’ shoulder and whispered for him to hush. James did, and looked down in his lap, contrite.

“Hello, Amanda. I’m somewhat surprised that Martha paired us up with you,” Q said.

“Why?” I crossed my arms defensively. I was quite sure I was not what they were looking for to add to their relationship. I thought Q was gay, and James, well, he could have anyone fall at his feet for him. I highly doubted I suited either of them: I was most definitely not a man, and I felt sure I was not up to James’ caliber of partners. “I don’t meet your minimum standards?”

“Good God no. She must think very highly of you, that’s all.”

I looked at Martha, who simply shrugged.

“I don’t understand,” I replied.

“James and I have been looking for a third for some time now. A few other subs we have been involved with were less than honest on their kink forms, or minimized their needs for certain activities. This led to all of us being frustrated, and Martha wanted to be very careful with who she set us up with. Martha must truly believe what you wrote and is confident that we’d match up. I was just surprised it was you, that’s all. A pleasant surprise though.”

My anger had pretty much dissipated, but I was still doubtful. “You’re serious? I’m a ‘pleasant’ surprise?” _Hmm, perhaps…_ , I thought.

“Jeffery never kids around with stuff like that. He’s as serious about that as he is serious about the safety of England,” said James.

“James, I told you to hush. Now, down on your knees,” said Q.

“Sorry, Jeffery. Of course, Jeffery,” replied James and he knelt down in front of his chair.

Q placed what looked like a mouthguard with a loop on it into James’ mouth, and balanced a ping-pong ball on the loop. “Don’t let it drop, James.”

James blinked once. I looked at James and panic surprisingly started to rise in my chest. Nope, this was not what I wanted; I wasn’t going to let anyone punish me again and all I could see was me there in James’ place.

“Amanda, are you okay?” Martha whispered in my ear. I shook my head.

“Yellow, Martha.” I knew we weren’t in a scene, but I didn’t know how else to explain the unexpected rush of panic flooding me.

Martha stood in front of me, blocking Q and James from my view, and grabbed both my hands. “Amanda, James is not you. Jeffery is not Stephen. They’ve contracted this between themselves. James is not doing anything he hadn’t agreed to already. James knows this. Jeffery knows this. You are okay. I wouldn’t let either of them do anything to you or convince you to do something you don’t want.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, blowing it out through my nose. I’d seen subs punished before, and much more painfully than what James was going through. I knew this, hell I was in Martha’s for God’s sake, but I usually was able to put barriers up to deal with it in the main club. I took a couple more deep breaths and opened my eyes. I saw Martha smiling at me, but more strangely both Q and James were looking at me, concern flooding their faces. James was still on his knees, but his mouthguard had been removed and was nowhere to be seen. Panic continued swirling in my stomach.

“Perhaps this won’t work after all. Sorry to waste your time Martha, Q and James,” I said, and I rushed out the door.

~~~~~

I sat myself at a far corner of the bar, and asked Shel for a glass of water. I rested my head in my hands, thinking about the scene I had just made. In front of Martha, who had been so kind. In front of Q and James, my boss and co-worker and potentially the only couple who I could have clicked with. Yes, I had to admit that before I panicked, I was tiptoeing around the possibility that I would like to have tried something with Q and James. I had flushed that chance right down the toilet and I sighed.

“Hey hon,” said Martha. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Martha. Thanks for trying though. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Well, they are both worried about you. They still want to have a drink with you. They’re at the far booth if you want to go over. If not, they understand.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Nope,” she replied, and moved out of the way so I could see the booth where Q and James sat. From this distance all I could tell was that they were both looking in my direction, but I couldn’t see their expressions at all.

_At least I could buck up and apologize properly like an adult_ , I thought so I grabbed my water and headed over to their booth.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry I ruined your evening and disappointed you both,” I started.

James spoke up. “You did no such thing Amanda. In fact, as another sub, it was impressive that you were able to recognize that something was wrong for you and you left the situation to take care of yourself. I…am not good with that. Won’t you please join us for a drink?”

I hesitated for a moment, then slid into the booth. Q raised his glass to me and took a sip of his drink.

“So, what would be the chance of us starting tonight all over again?” Q asked after he finished his mouthful.

“If you’re offering, I’m willing to try,” I replied, secretly doubtful.

“You don’t think things will go any better, right?” said James.

I shrugged, and took a sip from my water. “You’ve both already seen me panic over a simple punishment in a BDSM club. I’m not putting much hope that things will get much better, but I at least want to talk to you one last time before I head home.”

“So, how did you find Martha’s?” Q asked.

I talked about living in the neighbourhood and being in and out of the scene. I then asked about their experiences with Martha, and they both explained that they knew her from her old club, The Aerie, but had only met each other through MI6. It explained how Martha knew their kinks so well.

“So, is there a Mr. Amanda? Stephen perhaps?” James asked.

“Jesus fucking Christ, James! How you can be so smart and such a moron is beyond me! Stephen is her ex! I swear to Christ, when we get home…” Q gritted out.

“No, it’s okay, Q. I guess it’s easier to explain it now. Stephen and I got divorced right around the time I knit Q his lucky sweater. Stephen…” I took a deep breath in. “Stephen was also my Dom. Things…didn’t work out.”

“Oh,” replied James. “You’ve had no other partners since?”

“No one longer than a scene or two, no.”

“Why?” asked Q quietly.

I took a drink from my water. How much did I want the two men across from me to know? Where were things going between them and me?

“I’ll answer that if you answer a question of mine first,” I said.

“Deal,” replied Q.

“Why are you two sitting with me in booth at Martha’s when I’m sure there are other more…suitable people you could be with?”

James lips twitched in and out of a smile, and Q asked, “Can you clarify your question a bit for me? I don’t get what you’re asking.”

I frowned. My night was already shot, so what more could a little honesty do for it? “Look, Q. James is…” I blushed and looked at my water.

“I’m what?” asked James. I flicked my eyes up.

“You’re gorgeous, as you bloody well know. And you Q? You’re a tall drink of water on the hottest summer day. And you’re both into the scene. You both could go anywhere and pull anyone either of you desired. Me, I’m somewhat less than gorgeous and definitely no tall drink of water. I’m a middle aged, fat, picky sub who knits and lives alone with her cat. So I guess you got lucky and I answered your question for you. You don’t need to answer, and I’ll be going now.” I slid from the booth.

“Stay, please,” Q said softly.

“Why?”

“I’ll answer your question truthfully. Please, we’d both like you to stay.”

I looked back at Q and James. Q was looking hopeful, and the only way I could describe James’ face was open, like he didn’t want to hide anymore. I slid back into the booth.

“Look, you’re right. James and I have pulled, separately and together. Sure, it was fun, but we’re looking for more stability. We want someone with us who will balance us out. Just because someone is what society considers beautiful doesn’t mean that they will work well with our dynamic. I honestly think, if what Martha told us was the truth, that you could be lovely with us.”

“Everyone is beautiful, Amanda, it’s just that not everyone can see that. Only the lucky ones do,” said James.

“What about my little anxiety attack earlier?”

“Something we can talk about the next time we meet. I’m hoping there will be next time?” Q said.

I looked over at the men opposite me: one dark and dreamy, one blond and mouthwatering. I still had my doubts, but my instincts were screaming to say yes to this unexpected second chance.

“If you both want this, then I’m willing to think seriously about it. I would like you both to talk about me this weekend, and maybe we can go for drinks after work on Monday.”

James smiled broadly, and Q relaxed back into his seat. “That would be fine, Amanda. That would be just fine.”

~~~~~

Sunday I spent cleaning my flat, on the highly unlikely chance that either or both men wanted to come over for a drink. I didn’t usually let any of my play partners into the flat, and all of my dates since Stephen never made it past the front door. I wasn’t sure I’d want either Q or James here, but I still wanted the option available anyway.

As I cleaned, I focused my thoughts on Q and James and if I'd want to be in a relationship with them. Q was an easy decision. I’d never, ever actively try and get into a relationship with someone who was already taken. When life had become difficult, it was easy to daydream about my dark-haired boss whisking me away, but I’d never allow my thoughts go beyond that. Now that he was available, I thought more seriously about him. He was my friend; at least the closest thing I had to a friend in meatspace. Intelligence was always important to me because if I couldn't talk rationally, reasonably and logically to my partner, our relationship would be doomed. He was intelligent; he’d obviously have to be to become Q, to invent new tech and create code for MI6, and his chats with me were filled with respect and smart questions. I also would never kick him out of my bed; he was terribly handsome although he was significantly younger than me. The things that really clinched it was that he was a Dom and into shibari. I’d get into a relationship with Q in one hot minute.

James was a whole other matter. The first time I had actually met James was when he came down to thank me for the socks; all other information I had about him was second hand. Sure, I’d heard the gossip: he slept through most of MI6, and if the rumours were correct, half of MI5 too, he’d flirt with anything with a pulse, and he’d sleep with anyone to get a mission done. I’m not sure how Q put up with him. James was also a man I wouldn't kick out of my bed, but I’d was much more wary about his charms. I had to admit I was curious how he would be as a bed partner, with hearing about how much experience he had. He’d also have to be trustworthy to become a 00; MI6 wouldn’t let someone who was a liability become a special agent. I’d also never heard a complaint about him from Q, not even a “he leaves his dirty socks on the floor” kind of moaning. So either James was perfect and never left his socks on the floor, or Q wasn’t a complainer, or Q didn’t complain to me. James would also have to be intelligent; special agents couldn’t be stupid or they’d not last.

Both men seemed interested in me too, which shocked the hell out of me.

By the time I had finished cleaned my flat, I had made a decision. As long as no major issues came up with talking with them tomorrow, I’d give a relationship with them a try. I was quite looking forward to connecting with Q, and James seemed like an interesting man, at the very least.

~~~~~

When I checked my work email on Monday morning, Q had sent regrets for our normal start of the week meeting, but asked that I check my texts and respond as soon as possible. Sure enough, I had a text from Q saying that both he and James were still interested in pursuing a relationship with me. A second text had a time and an address for The Devil’s Harp Tavern. I acknowledged the texts, and I noted the pub Q had suggested was about mid-way between MI6 and my flat, and right on my tube line.

The day moved by, albeit slowly, and finally 17:00 hit. Just as I was locking the door to my workspace, James walked up to me.

“Do you want a lift to the pub? Or do you have your car here?” I told him I took the tube, and would definitely appreciate a ride to the pub.

This was the first time that James and I had been alone during non-work time. Q and I already had some type of friendship, but James was an unknown quantity.

“So, umm, James. Busy day?”

“Surprisingly, the enemies of England were quiet, so I ended up doing paperwork all day. You?”

I asked him about his security clearance and he just laughed saying Q was one of the few who had a higher clearance than him. I chuckled back, and started telling him about some of the projects I had on the go. When he realized what my job entailed, he stopped and looked at me, hard.

“You’re the one who makes my kit so realistic.”

I nodded.

“Do you know you’ve saved my life more than once?”

“I highly doubt that, James.”

He started walking again, but kept turning his head to look at me. “I can’t tell you the whys or whens, but the way you make things look so authentic has literally saved my life. The bad guys have skipped over things that you created only because they looked so real. Good job, Amanda.”

I blushed until we got to his car; a lovely Jaguar. As James was unlocking the doors, we both got notifications to our mobiles for a text. Apparently Q would be delayed a few hours, but he would still be able to meet us later on and to enjoy dinner without him. I texted Q back that we were leaving while James drove us away from MI6.

~~~~~

 

When we arrived at the pub, James was the epitome of a gentleman: he opened the door for me, pulled my chair out for me, and went up to bar to get me a drink. As James was walking away, it gave me the opportunity to, if I wanted to be really honest, ogle him. Where Q was long and lean, James was broad and thick. His bespoke trousers were filled out nicely by a lovely arse: not too big, not too round, just _lovely_.

While James was waiting for our drinks, a slender young woman sidled up to him, flicking her blonde hair and batting her eyelashes in the international code for “Hi, honey, take a look at me because I’m free tonight”. James was looking away down the bar and apparently missed the woman’s flirting, so she not-so-casually brushed her breasts against his upper arm.

In an instant, I saw James change from the relaxed gentleman of a few moments ago to a predator: tightly wound but silky smooth. The bartender returned with the drinks, and James whispered into the woman’s ear, then turned back to me, giving me a little wink. A smirk played around his mouth as he returned to our table.

“Is she pouting like I just killed her kitten?” James asked me, not turning back to look.

I nodded at him, smiling.

“And is she giving you a 'Look of Death’?”

I peered around his shoulder. Sure enough, if looks could kill, I’d be a vaporized bit of ash.

I nodded at him again.

“She wouldn't take no for an answer. Want to rile her up a bit?”

I looked into his deep blue, mischievous eyes. Shit. They made me yearn to do whatever he wanted, damned the consequences.

“Kiss?”

I wasn't sure I wanted my first kiss with James to happen in such a public way, but the way he looked at me, his eyes filled with the devil and openness and just a bit of hope made me nod my head yes.

He smoothly walked over to me and cupped one hand behind my head, titling it towards him. At first, it was just a brush of lips, soft and warm. Then in the blink of an eye, it slid into heat and wetness and passion. He finished by gently tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, and then he drifted away and back to his seat.

James spoke, but I was still caught up in the moment of kiss, and missed the words he was saying.

“Amanda, is she still there?” he repeated.

I clicked back to reality, and sure enough, the woman looked like she had just eaten a lemon, bitter and sour.

“Yes, but I think something disagreed with her. Probably me.” I winked at James and picked up a menu. He smirked back and did the same.

~~~~~

Over dinner, James and talked about our lives, and we avoided any deep or heavy topics. I talked about growing up in Hamilton, Canada: a large city near Toronto that had a lot of steel based industries. I also talked a little about immigrating to England; Stephen was English and had wanted to live here rather than Canada. James talked animatedly about his travels.

As we were finishing up our meals, Q rushed in, gave James a big kiss on the lips, kissed my cheek and flopped down into a chair. Funny enough, the woman from the bar earlier happened to be walking by our table as Q greeted us. She just gave me a look of disgust, and I winked at her and mouthed, “Jealous?” She turned off in a huff and I just had to snicker.

“Amanda? What’s so funny?” said James.

“Our little friend from the bar earlier was walking by as Q came in. She didn’t look too happy.”

“Where is she now?”

  I glanced around the pub, and sure enough, she was back at the bar, watching James.

“Back in her original spot.”

“You two, what’s going on? You're thick as thieves," Q asked.

James whispered into Q ear for a bit getting him caught up with our goings on.

“I’m going to grab some more drinks at the bar. Do you want me to order something for you for dinner, love? James asked.

“Fish and chips would be lovely, darling.” Q watched me watch James trail off to the bar again. “You two getting along?” asked Q.

I flicked my eyes over to Q, who was holding back a smile. “What can I say, Q? He’s charming, interesting, and has a lovely arse.”

“You sound like you’re a bit more comfortable around him.”

“I can’t say he wasn’t more than a bit intimidating at Martha’s. Tonight, he’s different.”

“Well, before Martha’s he was worried verging on panicking by meeting you. Having met you, he’s much more relaxed.”

“Worried about _me_? You’re pulling my leg, Q. That’s a 00 over there, and you’re saying he was worried about meeting me? Why ever for?”

“That would be a topic for later date.”

James returned to the table, a tight smile on his face.

“Love?” asked Q, seeing James looking uncomfortable.

“She won’t take no for an answer. She was also being rather uncharitable about lovely Amanda here.”

“Was she now?” said Q, and he lifted an eyebrow. James simply smiled back and tilted his head just a bit. Q nodded and said, “Amanda, how would you like to up the ante for our little friend?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“James and I on either side of you. A little guy-on-girl-on-guy action. Interested?”

My response was simple: laughter. I nodded happily, and they scooted their chairs to either side of me.

Q grabbed my hand gently, and whispered into my ear, “Colour?”

The colour system was the most basic and universal set of safe words: green for go or ‘everything is good/great’, yellow for slow down/something is wrong or ‘we have to talk/re-negotiate’ which I had used at Martha's, and red for stop or ‘stop everything right now and release me’.

I whispered back to Q, “Green. A happy, lively green, Q.”

In my other ear James whispered, “Me first?”

I looked at Q a moment, who simply smiled and nodded, so I turned to James. James’ eyes had darkened to a deep ocean blue and his lips pouted out deliciously. I licked my lips, and trailed a hand across one of his cheek bones. I leaned in, breathed out, and kissed him.

If I thought our previous kiss was hot, this one was positively blazing. Spicy and heady, it was the movement of a lightning bolt through the sky, the sizzle of oil on a fire. Kissing James took my breath away. James slowly ended the kiss with a few gentle nips to my lips to bring me back to earth.

“Amanda? Q is waiting patiently behind you; he’d love to taste your exquisite lips. Are you okay with that?”

I nodded, still just a bit dazed.

“Colour?” James whispered quietly.

I licked my lips. “Green, James.” That another sub was asking me my safe word struck me as unusual, but the thought quickly floated away.

“Turn around sweetheart, and look at Q.”

I followed his simple instructions and looked at Q . What I saw made my heart pound: Q’s face was filled with _want_. He grabbed both my hands and leaned in to me, his gorgeous hazel eyes looking into my soul. He pressed his lips firmly against mine, then, like James’ first kiss with me, it changed, but the change was as different as the men themselves.

Q’s kiss was slow, almost languid, but had a type of solidity to it that was soothing and arousing at the same time. Kissing Q was like home, the perfect cup of tea or lazy morning sex under a cuddly duvet: full of safety, security and rightness. When Q lifted his lips off of mine, I actually felt bereft. I looked at Q, stunned and feeling like I need to grab on to him for support. I then heard a throat clear behind me.

“Colour?” Q said.

“Green,” I mumbled back.

“Good,” he said, squeezing my hands lightly.

“Bloody hell. James? Jeffery?”

Q and I turned to see James vigorously shaking the hand of a young man with an apron tied around his waist.

“Tom! Good to see you. Yes, it’s me and Jeffery. Between us is the exceptional Amanda. Amanda, this is Tom, owner of this disreputable establishment.”

After shaking James’ and Q’s hands he shook my hand firmly and warmly.

“So,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “Did you three see any ‘indecent acts’ around you tonight? I had one of my regulars come up and complain to me that ‘an old bitty’ was ‘molesting two young gents’ in the bar. All I see here are two hard-up old men trying to corrupt an impressionable young lady.” Tom winked and me, and I smiled behind my raised glass.

“Was this regular of yours tall, blonde and looks like she sucks lemons for a living?” James asked.

Tom laughed and nodded. “Consider this my official warning for you lot. No more snogging in the bar, yeah?”

“No problem, Tom,” replied Q, laughing back. “Do you have the key for us?”

_Key?_   

Tom tossed a key to Q. “No shagging in the party room either. I don’t want to have to pay the staff extra for cleaning up any ‘unusual stains’ in there, okay? Just leave the key with Charles at the bar when you’re done.”

“Thanks, Tom, we totally appreciate it.” Q said. Tom gave us his goodbyes as he headed back to the kitchen.

~~~~~

Q’s fish and chips arrived shortly thereafter, and as soon as the plate was placed in front of him, he went to stand up. Q explained, “James talked to Tom to borrow his party room for a quiet neutral place for all of us to talk. We can leave the door open if you like, but I need to eat and get to the topic at hand sooner rather than later. As much as I don’t want to, I have to head back to Q-Branch tonight after we talk.”

James said, “006?” and Q nodded.

“Do you mind if we head into privacy now?” asked Q.

I shook my head, and grabbed Q’s plate off the table. “Lead on,” I said, and Q and James gave each other a glance at the plate in my hand. “Well, go on,” I said, shooing them into motion the best I could with a full plate of fish and chips in my hands.

I followed James and Q down a dim hallway where Q opened a door with the key Tom had given him. The room was small, tiny actually, and held a couple of round tables with about six chairs around each.

“Do you care where we sit?” Q asked me.

“No, anywhere is fine. And James, I’ll be okay if you close the door.” James gave me a small smile and shut the door behind him.

Q sat at the table on our left and took a chair facing the door. I sat on his right, the wall behind me. James sat opposite me.

Q started picking at his fish and said, "So, how do we want to start this off?" Both Q and James looked at me.

"Well," I started, "leaving aside the whole BDSM topic aside for a bit, I'd like to talk first about basic relationship stuff. Are you both looking for a long term relationship with a third or not? I definitely am; I've had enough flings in my lifetime."

Q answered. "As I mentioned at the club on Saturday, we are looking for stability. We have enough disruptive things going on in our jobs that we want our lives outside our jobs to be reliable and dependable. We were hoping whoever we found as a third would want the same. It certainly seems like you do."

I nodded. "Open or closed relationship? I want closed, and it would be a hard sell to make me change my mind."

James opened his mouth, then closed it, looking at Q. Then James said, "We want a closed one, but there are some, ahem, 'technicalities' that you need to know first." James looked at Q and Q nodded.

"How much do you know about James being a special agent?" Q asked me.

I thought a moment. I knew from the items that passed through my workstation that James wasn't playing tiddlywinks on his missions; a lot of items were deadly or had the potential to be. How that affected a closed or open relationship, I wasn't sure.

I voiced my thoughts, and Q said, "You're quite right; James has a violent career. However, James also collects information. He doesn’t have to use force; usually it only takes some persuasion or distraction for him to get what he needs.”

I sat back into my chair, taking a moment to read between the lines of what Q and James had said. “I know we’re on a time crunch here, so I’m going to be blunt because I want to make sure I understand. James, you use sex on your missions to get the information you need, and Q, you know and are fine with it.”

Q nodded, but James looked surprisingly slightly…ashamed. Immediately, I had the feeling that I wanted to soothe his brow and whisper in his ear how brave and good he was; he gave his body for Queen and country, how I would do anything he asked to give him pleasure and peace of mind. James was unknowingly tugging on my desire to care for others, which, for me, was very tied in to my submissive side. _Those_ thoughts shocked me on my arse.

Any type of open relationship I'd had was very different than the relationship between Q and James. The closest experience I had was a friends-with-benefits type relationship with a guy whose girlfriend was a stripper. Similar, I supposed, but not like this.

I came back to my initial emotional response when I saw James’ reaction. I felt concern, and the desire to care for him. Had you asked me a week or two ago how I would react to such a situation being presented to me, I would have guessed that a closed relationship was an absolute, and their relationship was one that I would never participate in. Now, they had done a hard sell without selling anything at all; they had simply told me the state of their relationship without pushing me one way or another. The ball was in my court.

“I’m not too sure what to say; I’ve certainly never come across a relationship quite like yours.” James seemed to slump just a little in his chair. “Now James, I’m not saying no. If anything, I’m surprising myself by thinking this is something I could be okay with in a relationship with you both. I’m leaning towards the ‘yes’ side rather than the ‘no’ side, but I need to think a lot more. Can you both give me some time? Maybe until the weekend or so?” They nodded. “Can we continue talking today? I’d really like to get talking about limits and such, at least a little, before Q has to go.”

“Did you want to start?” Q asked. “Obviously James and I know each other’s limits.”

“Not a problem. There are going to be some things I’m going to explain as I go on, just so you both can understand me a little more. There are hard-limits that make me shudder, so there is no-way-no-how they’ll ever change: no scat, no vomit, and somewhat obviously no death, dismemberment, disfigurement or hospitalization.” I saw one of James’ eyebrows go up and I had to chuckle. “Yes, I’ve actually had to verbalize the last four in previous discussions. Some people are just that dim, I guess, and no, I didn’t play with them.

“Now, there are some hard limits I have because of bad experiences with Stephen as my Dom. These hard limits are: no humiliation especially in public, no punishment, no calling my Dom ‘Sir’, ‘Master’, or any other title, no slavery, no 24/7 lifestyle, no collars or other signs of ownership, no punching, no kicking, no caning, no paddling, no whipping, no hitting with chains, no flogging, no pet play, no significant or extended pain.

“Things that have soft limits, or things that may not do anything for me but I’d be willing to do are: watersports, blood play, pegging, dirty talk, permanent marks, knife play, exhibitionism, sensory deprivation.

“Things that are a yes are: bondage and restraints, service, gun play (I saw both of James’ eyebrows rise at that), toys, vaginal penetration, anal, oral.

“Things that are a requirement: physical touch, praise."

“So,” Q started after a few quiet moments in thought. “Let me see if I got the gist of what you are saying: you don’t get off on large amounts of pain, but you’re okay with the risk of pain or the threat of pain. Good so far?”

  I nodded.

“You want to serve, but you don’t want to be owned. You want someone else to be in control, but you don’t want to lose your independence. I'm guessing you want to be cherished.”

I nodded again. Hope flooded me then crashed away. Other Doms had said similar things to what Q had said, but in the end it was either “thanks but no thanks” or “you’ll do for now but not for longer”. I looked down at my hands in my lap and picked at a nail. The silence in the room was deafening, and I dreaded seeing Q or James’ potential expressions of disgust or refusal.

“Amanda. Look at us; there’s nothing to worry about.” I was surprised to hear James’ low voice, and I peeked up. “What you’ve just told us is like music to _both_ our ears. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought Martha put you up to this, or maybe she cooked you up just for us. As Q’s sub, I’m somewhat…” James paused.

“Challenging would be the appropriate word, love.” Q commented.

“Challenging is rather diplomatic of you. I’m disobedient and pushy. Part of our dynamic is I will take what he gives, but I make him work hard for it. My submission to him is not easy for him or me, and as good as it is, it can be draining on both of us.

"I need to let you know, though, I’m not just a sub but a switch; Q is solely a Dom though. I’ve wanted to Dom again for a while, but I don’t enjoy doing to subs a lot of the things that are hard limits for you. I cause enough discomfort in my job that I’d like someone I think of as a ‘soft and easy’ sub: someone who doesn’t need pain to submit, someone who wants me to take care of them and who will care for me as I ask. Q’s needs parallel mine; there are times he can find me a bit much and that can make him feel like he’s failing as a Dom. Someone with your style of submission can help support him as much as my style pushes him.”

My mouth just dropped open. Here in front of me were not one but _two_ Doms like I had always dreamt of. I shut my mouth with a snap. No way could it be this easy. My life was not this easy.

"I'm waiting..." I said hesitantly.

"For?" James asked.

"The 'but...'. 'But we talked today and don't think this'll work.' 'But one of us don't want this now.' 'But we've changed our mind because of the freak out on Saturday.' Any or all of the the above."

"None of the above, actually," said Q. "No ‘buts’ at all."

"You've had some interesting reactions to Q and I," said James softly. "Your reaction to my correction. You asking us at Martha's why we were sitting with you instead of out pulling someone else. Tonight's comment about waiting for a ‘but’. Care to tell us what this is all about?"

I looked at Q, then at James, then back to Q, then down to my hands again. How could I condense down my experiences for them? How much did I want to tell them and how much should they know? I was a firm believer in telling the truth, but that didn’t mean that I had to spill all my dirty laundry at once. I figured the basics, with a few explanations would be best, especially if in the end this didn’t work out.

“I have some mental illness: depression and something called complex PTSD. I’ve had them for a long time, but both are pretty well taken care of medications. I’ve done a lot of therapy and I am much better than I was a few years ago, but I still have a few symptoms crop up here and there, mostly when I’m stressed and/or not taking care of myself. A few years ago, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia; thankfully one of my psych meds helps a lot with the pain.

“My last significant relationship was with Stephen, my ex-husband and ex-Dom. He was…” I took a deep breath. “He was abusive, and has really fucked up my thoughts around BDSM relationships. His view was that he was the Dom and I was his sub, emphasis on the ‘his’. He 'owned' me, and could do what he liked with me. He went beyond my hard limits frequently. He would ignore me safe wording out. Punishment for 'misbehaving' was a daily routine. It took me a long time to view our relationship as unhealthy, and not what a good Dom/sub relationship should be. On top of all that, he also screwed around on me a lot, and when I’d confront him, he’d say he went elsewhere because those subs were so much more than me: more compliant, more agreeable, just more of whatever I was not.

“I’ve spent a lot of time since my divorce from Stephen figuring out what I wanted as a sub. I think some of my present hard limits might not exist had I not had my experiences with Stephen, but I can’t change the past. I know what I like and want now. I’ve been honest with other Doms who I’ve talked about doing scenes with and either I’m really unlucky or really am too difficult because I’ve never been able to even get into a part-time relationship with a Dom. ‘Too many hard limits’ is a pretty common comment I’ve gotten back, ‘too picky’ or ‘you’re not really a sub’ are other things I’ve heard too.

“I think my panic attack on Saturday was because I could see myself in James’ position and there was no way I will ever get into that situation again. I’ve never had that reaction before; usually when I’m at Martha’s I’m a bit more prepared at seeing corrections given to subs. I can’t say it won’t happen again, but I honestly don’t think it will.

“Those are the basics, in a nutshell. I’ve told you as much as I can right now, but I’m not omitting anything major. Q, we’ve known each other for a good bit of time, and I feel comfortable with you. James, I’d like to get to know you better, but there is part of me that is kind of intimidated by you.”

“Why?” said James, frowning. “Because I’m a 00? I’d never hurt you.”

“No, I’m not expecting you to be violent or anything like that. It’s…just…well, I’ve never been with someone quite so handsome and charismatic as you, and your reputation precedes you.”

James smirked at that. “What? I’m a notorious charmer with loose morals? I’ve got a girl or guy in every port? Something like that?”

I smirked back and nodded.

“Look,” he continued. “I can’t deny that I’ve had lots of different experiences, but since I’ve been with Q anything I have done of an intimate nature I have done with him or with his knowledge _and_ approval. I’ve never had any kind of affair on him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m an unrepentant flirt, but it never goes beyond that.

“Going into missions, sex is planned ahead of time and Q is always aware of it. It’s exceedingly rare for unexpected sex to just happen. We may or we may not be able to tell you ahead of time when it will happen; just know that what ever happens on my missions is my job, like paperwork or defending myself. I do what I do for England, and that is it. What happens on my missions stays on my missions, and honestly, I never want to bring that back into a relationship.”

“Condoms?”

“Between Q and I, no, but on missions, always. If the other person refuses, then I work my way around it so the risk is reduced. I can’t tell you that I’ll never pick anything up, but since I’ve been with Q, I’ve never had an STI. I get tested in Medical every month, and am immunized against a wide range of diseases. It’s the best I can do; it’s up to you to decide whether it’s too much risk or not. You don’t have to answer tonight, just think on it like you already said you would.”

I nodded, then Q spoke up. “There’s a hard limit I have as a Dom you need to be aware of.”

“Okay…” Doms had their own limits like subs, but they only told me when their hard limits interfered with my requirements.

“I have a hard limit about having penetrative sex with women.”

“Okay… Vaginal? Anal? Oral?”

“Vaginal. I just…can’t.”

I smiled gently at Q. “I can’t say I’m not just a teensy bit disappointed,” Q’s face fell, “but I understand and am totally fine with your limits, Q. Penis-in-vagina sex is not one of my requirements, Q, and I’d be honoured to share your body in whatever way makes you happy.”

Q let out a whoosh of air. “Well, that went better than I thought it might. There was something else that we wanted to bring up: me Domming you and James in the same scene.”

My brain hiccuped then went offline. “I…uh…what, Q? I’d… _love_ to try that! But the logistics, and how do James and I interact or do we? Or…”

Both Q and James smiled easily at me. Q said, “Doing a scene like that can be tricky, and we all have to trust each other a lot. It’s definitely not something I want to do anytime soon, and we all need to be quite prepared for it, but it can be an extremely satisfying experience for all of us. I had an amazing experience with another Dom and a sub in my 20’s, and saw how incredible it can be. I want to try it again, but this time with me in charge.”

All of a sudden I heard buzzing from Q's pocket, and he pulled out his mobile. "Bloody 006! I really have to get back; a car is waiting for me outside." He pulled a small object from his pocket: it looked like an ear plug for a swimmer. He handed it to me and said, "This is a type of communicator. Both James and I have our own, and this one works on the same frequency as ours. It's a private frequency, so we can continue our conversation until I get to MI6."

I slid the communicator in my ear. "How loudly do I have to speak for you to hear me?" I said.

"Not loudly at all. We can hear you whispering. Can you hear me okay?" said Q.

I nodded.

"What about me?" asked James.

"Clear as a bell."

Q got up and kissed James on the mouth, then leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll see you both tomorrow," he said and left.

~~~~~

"James, what about your limits? You haven't said too much about them, and I don’t want to accidentally hit one,” I said.

James quietly sighed, and Q said, "Go on James. It's okay; it's one of the reasons you wanted a third." I heard the faint noises of Q getting into a vehicle.

"Q is right, Amanda. I want some better examples of a sub expressing their limits. It's very hard for me to acknowledge my limits; I want to follow orders and please so badly I won't safe word out. I'm getting better at doing that, but it is still a challenge."

"So why not spend time at Martha's or another club? There's a wide range of subs at clubs who can be appropriate examples.”

James sat quietly for a few moments. I could tell he was trying to decide something. Q didn’t say a word.

“James?” I asked softly. I got up and moved to the chair that Q had left, then placed my hand palm up on the table. He looked at my hand, then up to my face; his eyes had paled to a light grey blue. He put his hand in mine, then turned my hand over. He traced my knuckles hesitantly and gently with his other hand.

“I just want to have a sub that knows Q like I do to talk to. Q and I are in a very different relationship than any I’ve known or come across; I literally trust him with my life since he is my handler. I find it hard to get the answers I’m looking for in watching other Dom/sub relationships.”

“You know I’m not a therapist, right?”

James sighed, hinting at frustration. “I know that. I just need…”

Suddenly, it clicked. “Help not with being _a_ sub, but being _Q’s_ sub?” I heard a sharp intake of breath from Q, and James’ eyes brightened. “I can truthfully say, if I do decide to try being the third in this relationship, that I will do my very best to help you with your needs, James. I will never tell you how to be a sub or what your limits should be; I’ll only be able to share with you my experiences with Q. It’s the best I can offer.”

“It’s all I want,” whispered James.

“I’m so sorry, James and Amanda,” Q said. “I’m at MI6 and we won’t be able to communicate like this anymore tonight.”

  “It’s fine Q,” I said. “I hope your night goes smoothly, and you can get home at a reasonable hour.”

James snorted. “Not with working with 006. Love, I hope you can get home tonight but if not, kip on the cot in your office some, okay? Promise me.”

Q sighed. “Yes, 007. I’ll do the best I can; you know I will. Thank you so much for tonight, Amanda. I really enjoyed talking with you, and as much as I know you still have some decisions to make, I really hope you’ll give James and I a try. James, I love you. G’night Amanda.”

“Good night Q,” I replied.

“Good night, love,” said James.

“Q out,” and with a click Q was gone.

I pulled the communicator out of my ear and gave it back to James. He slid it into an inner pocket of his jacket, then he removed his own and placed in the pocket too.

“So, did you want and stay and chat a bit? Maybe at the bar?” James asked.

“As much as I’d love to, I have to head home. I got a last minute project handed to me that needs to be done by 10:00 tomorrow, so I’m going to have go in early.”

“Would you like me to drive you home?”  

“No, that’s okay. There’s a tube station not far from here, and it’s will get me directly home.”

“Are you sure? It’s no problem, and I don’t mind…”

“Honestly James, it’s fine. I spend my time on the tube thinking; it helps me decompress before I get home. And I know I have a lot of thinking to do.”

“As long as you’re sure. At least I can walk you to the tube station.”

“I can let you do that, James.”

“Then just let me hit the loo before we go.”

I leaned up against the bar and played with my phone while I waited for James. A hint of cigar smoke smell was my only warning that someone I was not looking forward to seeing at _all_ was going to say…

“Hello, Mandy. It’s good to see you.”

My heart stopped a moment, then beat itself into a rabbit’s pace. I swallowed and tilted my head to look at the face I wished I’d never see again. Panic roiled in my stomach.

“Stevie,” I said, knowing the diminutive would irritate him. “I can’t say the same, sorry.” I saw a young woman standing next to him, an obvious sub collar around her neck.

“Now Mandy, you really should learn to let things go. You never did learn that while we were together. Had you, maybe things would have ended up differently.”

“I rather doubt that,” I replied, feeling a warm, solid body slide next to me.

“Amanda? Sorry I took so long,” James said, touching my hand gently. I grabbed his hand, wanting to have some sense of security.

“It’s fine. James, this is Stephen, my ex-husband. And, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your friend’s name?”

James shook Stephen’s hand, a little too firmly as I could see Stephen wince a bit. “James, Mandy, this is Melissa.” Melissa waved and said hello, but didn’t stretch her hand out to shake either of ours. I knew how much Stephen had probably drilled into Melissa’s head how he didn’t want anyone touching _his property_ without his previous expressed permission.

“So, just out for an evening at the pub with…” started Stephen.

“A co-worker,” I said. “James and I work together.”

“Ah. Of course. _Co-worker_ ,” sneered Stephen. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. Look, James, I could tell from across the room your relationship with Mandy. Let me give you a bit of advice from one Dom to another: don’t let Mandy top from the bottom. You can push her much, _much_ further than she thinks.”

James gripped my a hand just a little tighter as I reddened and looked down to hide my face. God damn Stephen; I wanted to die from embarrassment and wished a hole in the floor would swallow me up.

“I’m quite sure Amanda knows what she wants and what she doesn’t. However, I’m not her Dom. I, however, would never push anyone beyond their limits; I respect people, their choices and their privacy. Excuse us, Stephen and Melissa, we need to head out.”

  James firmly parted the crowd in front of the bar, and carefully guided me right out the pub door.

I started having flashbacks to the time I was with Stephen. Painful, terrifying memories obliterated the world around me, and I felt like I was right back with Stephen during some especially horrible times with him. I was twitching as we arrived at James’ Jaguar; whenever particularly difficult flashbacks would surface, my body would twitch involuntarily to break the scene in my mind.

“Amanda, you’re safe. I’m not going to let Stephen near you. He can’t do anything to you; I won’t let him. Q wouldn’t either. I know you said you wanted to take the tube, but would you let me drive you home?”

All I could do was shake my head yes; the thought of being surrounded by strangers and unable to escape made my panic rise. James opened the door to his car, and I slid in gratefully. After he closed the door, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. I took a some slow, deep breaths in and out trying to calm myself down. James asked me for my my address. I told him and he put it into the car’s GPS, then squealed out of the parking space.

~~~~~

London flicked by as I continued my deep breaths; in and hold and out, in and hold and out. I reminded myself that I had the strength to kick that arsehole out, and he wasn’t here now. I told myself that James had been supportive and lovely this evening. Flashbacks continued through my mind, but I tried to focus and tell myself that that’s all they were: memories. By the time we got to my flat, I wasn’t quite so panicked.

“Amanda, can I see you right up to your door? I can tell that Stephen triggered you.”

As much as I hated that James knew what was happening, I just wanted to feel safe, and having James take me right to my door felt right. I nodded, so James parked and opened my door for me. I led him to the tight, enclosed staircase that led to my studio flat and he went up first. I was still twitching, just a little.

I’d been alone through my separation and divorce from Stephen, and I’d gotten through it mostly by myself with some support from a therapist and some online friends. However, it’d been a long time since I was so triggered, and wanted to lean on someone for just a little bit.

We stood in front of my door, and I said, “James, thanks for getting me home. I…would you like to come in for a drink?” James raised an eyebrow and I blushed. “That’s not code for anything, James, I just…”

James chuckled lightly. “I wasn’t expecting _that_ , but I wasn’t sure if you preferred being alone or wanted company right now.”

“I’d really like it if you came in for a drink, James,” I said, embarrassed and looking down at my shoes.

“Okay, then. I’d love to come in for a drink.”

I unlocked my door, and saw a pair of glowing eyes looking down at me from his perch on his cat post. “Hey there, Maple,” I said as I reached up and rubbed my cat’s head. “Sorry I’m late, but I did tell you not to expect me home early.”

_Oh God, I can’t believe I’m talking to my cat like that in front of a 00._

“Maple?” asked James.

“Umm, yes. He sticks to you like maple syrup and is just about as sweet. He…umm…doesn’t talk back or anything,” I mumbled.

James chuckled. “Sometimes, the only reasonable response you can get is from a pet who doesn’t talk back, right Maple?” James scratched behind Maple’s ears and got a purr like his Jaguar for a response.

“Umm, right. Can I take your jacket? And I’ve got a couple of types of Innis & Gunn beer in the fridge: rum finish and whisky finish. Or something else? Tea? And please, have a seat.”  

James gave me his jacket and said, “The whisky finish would be lovely, thanks.” He looked around my flat to see where to sit.

I had a studio flat that was hardly better than a bedsit; it’s all I could afford when I got divorced. My bed was in the far corner, and a couple of soft chairs sat around a small table in the living area. My kitchen was just half a wall as you entered, and my bathroom was a small room off the kitchen. I had created a storage area behind some curtains that I had put up in the corner of the main living area. My spinning wheel and a folding chair had been pushed up next to a spare space on the wall.

James picked the chair on the far side of the table, and Maple came over to jump into his lap.

“Obviously a mean and feral cat, this one,” joked James, stroking Maple as he lounged in his lap.

I smiled at James, handing him his bottle of beer. “Obviously. He’s a terror.” Maple responded with more purring. I sat down in the other chair.

“So,” James started as he looked around my flat. “This is…”  

“Total shit?”

  “I was going to say ‘cozy’.”

"'Cozy’ is just another word for ‘bloody hell, this is small’.”

“I’ve seen smaller,” he said.

“Oh, I did too when I was looking for a flat. This place was the best compromise of space for price that I could find when Stephen and I divorced.” I sighed. This flat was not where I was expecting to be at this stage in my life.

“So, Stephen. That was him.”

“Yes,” I replied, taking a drink of my own beer. “Sorry for my reaction back there.”

“Totally understandable, but you certainly didn’t act badly at all. You know, you apologize a lot.”

“Well, I was brought up Canadian. We apologize when other people bump into us.”

“Very British.”

“Well Canada is part of the Commonwealth; we had to learn our bad habits from someone.” James just laughed.

At the lull in our conversation, memories of Stephen started flooding me again. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breathing sped up again and James said, “Hey. Hey, Amanda. You’re okay. Open your eyes and look at me.”

I did, and saw that James had put his beer down, moved Maple off his lap, and was leaning forward in his chair.

“It’s okay. I’m really fine.”

He held his hand out to me. “I don’t think you are. I’m here to help, if you want.” I looked at James’ outstretched hand. James had gotten me out of a difficult situation. He had protected me. I placed my hand in his, and he lightly tugged. I sighed in relief, went over to James, and sat between his legs on the floor. I rested my head on one of his thighs. He lightly, very lightly, started stroking my hair.

“You know, Amanda, you’re very strong for kicking that bastard out. You’ve got your own place, and a job at MI6. You have control over your life.”

Even as I heard his words, the memories I had of Stephen made me want to disagree. “I stayed with him too long. I let him do too much.” I had a particularly awful flashback, which cause a violent twitch; James stopped petting my hair until I stopped, then he continued again.

“I’m sure you got out as soon as you were able. And he is the only one responsible for his actions, not you.”

He hadn’t said anything I hadn’t heard from others, but there were times I still believed it was all my fault: my fault for getting into an abusive situation, my fault for letting it go on, my fault for not being stronger sooner. I stayed between James’ legs for a while, just letting him soothe me. It was nice to have someone take care of me, and not in a Dom/sub situation either. He was warm and solid; he felt like strength and protection. It took time, but eventually, the flashbacks slowed, then stopped. I had a bad headache, and I knew that I’d probably have nightmares for at a couple of nights. I wished I could take a couple of sick days and sleep, but my bank account couldn’t afford that. The stress of the flashbacks and nightmares would cause my fibro to flare, and I knew the rest of the week I would have more pain than normal. I just needed to make it to the weekend when I could rest.

“James, I’m fine now,” I said as I lifted my head to look at him. He smiled down at me, and I could tell he didn’t fully believe me, but would accept my lie. I slowly untangled myself from his legs and took his now-empty beer bottle to the kitchen counter.

“Then maybe I’ll head out. I know you’ve an early morning tomorrow.”

“Thanks, James. I appreciate you being here for me,” and I handed him his jacket.

“Anytime you need a hand to hold, just call, okay?”

I smiled at him, knowing I’d never do such a thing, but nodded anyway, and we exchanged mobile numbers. At the door, James kissed me softly, then wished me a good sleep and said that he’d see me tomorrow.

After I closed the door behind him, I rested my head on the door, wondering what the future held.

~~~~~

As expected, I had nightmares that night, and when my alarm went off, all I wanted to do was curl back up under the duvet and hide from the world. But I knew people were depending on me to do my job, so I dragged myself up out the bed. I had a shower, got ready, and had a quick bite of toast and a tea. I was finishing off my last mouthfuls when I heard a text ping my mobile.

_(06:17) Car coming to pick you up at 06:30 ~Q_

**(06:18) No need. I’m almost out the door for the tube now. BTW, how did you get this #?**

_(06:18) James. Mind? ~Q_

**(06:18) Not at all : ) But honestly, call off the car.**

_(06:19) It’s not a car from work. *James* is picking you up. ~Q_

**(06:20) WTF?**

**(06:20) Oops. sry. Didn't mean for that to get sent. But really, what?**

_(06:21) James said something this a.m. about you and the tube? Not sure, then he was out the door.~Q_

**(06:22) I’ll call him.**

_(06:23) ‘k ~Q_

I called James' mobile and he picked up on the first ring. “James, why are you coming to pick me up this morning? Q just texted; turn around and go home.”

“Too late. I’m sitting outside your flat right now.”

I sighed. “James, come up right now. I think you and I have to have a little chat face to face.” I heard a click, then soon after a light tap on my front door.

“James,” I said, letting him into my flat.

“Sleep well?”

“Not particularly, but don’t change the topic. Why are you at my flat at 06:30 to drive me to MI6? I’m an adult, and I’ve made it to work on time without your help for a number of years now.”

“Honestly, I just wanted to help. I was…worried about you on the tube. And I figured if you got into work that little bit earlier, you, Q, and I could maybe sneak out early to get out in the fresh air for a bit.”

I rubbed my eyes. James wasn’t aware how tight my budget was, and how I depended on the bits of overtime I got. But getting driven to work in a Jag by a handsome man, well, I could take that.

“Next time you want to drive me to work, just call or text first, okay? I’ll probably say no, though. And about taking time off: I can’t today. Maybe another day, though.”

“I know your boss, you know. I could put a good word in for you to skip this afternoon…”

“As tempting as that is, please don’t ask Q to do that. Okay?”

James nodded, then led me out my door. I locked it behind us, and we got into the Jag. I had to admit, it was rather nice to not have to bump and jostle others for a spot on the tube.

~~~~~

James got me to MI6 even earlier than I needed to, so I was able to get the rush job done well before the deadline for 10:00. I was just putting the finishing touches on a make-up case that held a piece of surveillance equipment when I heard a knock on the doorframe of my workspace.

“Hello? Oh Eve! Nice to see you; you haven’t been down here in quite a while. Something I can do for you?”

  Eve Moneypenny came in and sat down across from me at my my desk. I had done quite a few projects for Eve when she was a special agent, but she had changed positions and I wasn’t quite sure what she did anymore.

“Hi, Amanda. Haven’t seen you for a while.” Eve looked totally composed, but there was a vibe she was giving off that reminded me of James at the bar: smooth and predator-like. She had never acted that way before around me, so I wondered what was going on.

“I saw that James Bond drove you from MI6 yesterday, and today he dropped you off.”

_Oh good Lord,_ I thought _._ _I have an ex-special agent about to warn me off James Bond._

“Yes, he did.”

“You know he’s in a relationship with Q, right?”

“I’m rather aware of that, Eve. Don’t you think…”

“Stop. Stay away from James Bond. If he wants to ‘drive’ you anywhere, you turn him down. Don’t call him; don’t text him. You don’t want to know what I will do if I find out you are in contact with him beyond your job. Am I clear?” Eve stood up and smoothed down her skirt.

“Crystal. But Eve, I think you need to talk to Q and James.”

“I’ll do neither. They don’t need to know about this chat, right?”  

I sighed. “Fine, Eve.” Eve simply nodded and left my workspace. I thumped my head down onto my desk. Eve warning me off James would have been hilarious had not I been triggered yesterday. Now, I was just more stressed than ever. Pain in odd spots, like my collarbones and just above my elbows, started screaming at me. I was heading into a major flare up of my fibro, and I needed to decompress for the next few evenings by resting and sleeping as much as I could. Right now, however, I had a job to do and I had to get to it.

I worked for the next few hours steadily, and though my pain was bothering me, as long as I focused on my job, I was able to mostly ignore it. In the early afternoon, a cup of tea was placed on my desk by none other than James. I thanked him with a wan smile and sipped at it. James was lounging in the chair that Eve had sat in only a few hours ago.

“You’re looking worse than last night,” he said after watching me for a while.

“I’m fine, just tired. Umm…thanks for the tea, but I have to get back to work. Could you leave now, please?”

“Why? Am I bothering you? I don’t mind sitting with you while you work.”

I sighed and rubbed my face. “You’re not, but just, I need you to leave. I want to be able to focus and you’re…”

James stood up and leaned over my desk. “I’m what? A distraction?” I jumped back and James peered at me. “Am I making you nervous? I said I wouldn't do anything to you to hurt you…”

“I _know_ that James. Just…go!”

“What happened? You’re rather on edge.”

“Just tired. Now please, can you leave?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll check on you later.”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay, but we’re _going_ to talk at some point, Amanda,” and he left.

I finished my tea and got back to work. I had only an hour until quitting time when I heard yet another knock on my doorframe. _It’s getting to be like St. Pancras around here_ , I thought. I looked up, then I paled. Standing in front of me were Q, James, and Eve.

“I was concerned about you, Amanda,” said James. “I talked to Q and we tried to figure out what was wrong. We watched the security videos thinking maybe someone was off-loading their work on you or something like that. The only thing that happened today was that Eve visited you and after she left you laid your head on your desk. Is there anything you’d like to say, Eve?”

“Nope. I just thought I’d say hello to Amanda while I was in the area.” Eve glared at me.

Q sighed. “You are more than aware that we have programs in place that do lip reading, right? Now, I’m asking: is there anything you’d like to say, Eve?”

Eve lifted her head and sniffed. “Fine. I was telling Amanda to stay away from James. I’m not going to let anyone fuck up your relationship, Q. No. One.”

“Bloody hell, Eve! We, James _and_ I, are talking to Amanda about including her in our relationship. Not that it’s any of your bloody business.”

Eve’s mouth made a perfect “o” of shock.

“Did you threaten her?”

Eve snapped her mouth shut and gave a small nod.

“With what?”

“Nothing specific. She knows I’m an ex-special agent; I didn’t have to spell it out.”

James looked furious and Q just rubbed his face. “Fuck it all, Eve!” Q shouted at Eve. “You are one of my closest friends, but right now you’ve screwed up so bloody badly. It was not your place to do any of that, and you scared her totally unnecessarily. Apologize to Amanda, now!”

Eve took a deep breath in and said, “Amanda, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you and James. I’m also sorry I threatened you; I shouldn't have done that.”

“Apology accepted, but I’m not the only one you need to apologize to. You need to apologize to James and Q too. You assumed James was screwing around on Q, and you didn’t ask James or Q what was going on. For all you know, I could have been helping them out on a classified project or even on their flat, for God’s sake.”

Eve’s eyes widened. She turned to James and Q. “James, I sorry I thought so poorly of you. You’ve never done anything to hurt Q. Q, I’m sorry I didn’t come and talk to you first.” She turned back to me. “Amanda, I am truly sorry. I’d appreciate it if you forgot this ever happened.”

All I did was nod, and she left. I slumped back in my chair. I was _so_ ready for this day to be over with.

“Why don’t you head home?” Q said to me. “It’s not like you weren't here extra-early this morning.” Q looked over his glasses at James, who just shrugged.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just finish up this job I’m on. Won’t take me long.”

Q stared at me a few moments then nodded. “Don’t stay late, though.”

“I won’t, boss.”

“When you’re done for the day, can you see me in my office? James and I would like to chat with you a bit.”

I was certainly curious at that. Q had never invited me to his office, ever. He always came down to see me.

“Not a problem, Q.”

Q winked at me and James smiled as they left.

~~~~~

Finally, _finally_ , the day was over. I cleaned up my desk, clocked out, and headed over to Q-Branch. I made it to Q’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come,” Q said.

The glass of Q’s office walls had been turned opaque. Q sat at his desk; James was leaning back on a sofa.

“Shut the door and have a seat.” I did as Q asked, and I sat in a chair in front of Q’s desk.

“Is there a problem?” James and Q were just looking at me and I felt like an insect pinned to a board. “Is there something wrong with my work performance? A piece of 007’s kit not up to snuff?”

“No, of course not. Nothing like that. We wanted to talk to you about Eve.” Of course they did.

“What do you want me to say? You said you saw the video.”

“You did nothing wrong, Amanda.” said Q. “It’s understandable that you didn’t want to say anything to James when he dropped off your tea; Eve is rather intimidating. However, we need to make something very clear to you: anyone, whether that be a janitor, or Eve, or M or the Queen herself threatens you, you _immediately_ tell James or I. No matter what they say, no matter what they threaten, no one can touch you. No one will hurt you.”

“And if I don’t get into a relationship with you both?”

“I don’t care if we end up hating each other; anyone threatens you, tell us. Right?”

I sighed and nodded.

“You really need to understand,” James said. “Promise us: anyone threatens you in any way, you’ll contact us immediately.”

“I’m not an idiot, James. I get it. If anyone threatens me or Maple, I will absolutely contact you. Can I go now?” I stood to leave.

“You’re not taking the tube. I’m driving you home,” James said.

I slammed my hand on Q’s desk. “No, James! You will not be telling me what I am or am not doing. I’m more than capable to get home on my own.”

I mumbled a quick goodnight, and left Q’s office.

The ride home on the tube was no treat, but no worse than usual. I had never felt so relieved to get home to my crappy little flat in my life. Maple was good at sensing whenever I felt off, so he stayed close to me all night, snuggling or rubbing me whenever he could. I only had the energy to make a pot noodle, and after I finished slurping it down, I curled up under my duvet with some crocheting and Maple. Thankfully, I was able to relax enough to get to sleep fairly early. I had a nightmare, but mostly my sleep was restful. I didn’t feel quite so bad as I had when I had gone to sleep, which was a good sign; I had probably headed off a bad fibro flare up, but I still had to take it as easy as I could for the next couple of days.

~~~~~

Surprisingly, after the tumultuous beginning of the week, the rest of the week was smooth sailing. My projects seemed to get finished with ease. James occasionally popped in to drop me off a tea and ask me how I was doing, but he didn’t stay. I spent the evenings resting, and by the time Friday came, I felt much more like myself.

As I started feeling better, I started thinking more and more about Q and James’ relationship. Could I be involved in a closed-with-technicalities relationship? Q had obviously come to terms with what James did on his missions; could I do the same? Would I get jealous of those unknown sexual partners?

I had always thought of myself as open-minded; being in the scene had certainly exposed me to lots of relationships in all sorts of configurations. But, and this was a big but, those configurations hadn’t included me. I eventually tried to put myself in the situation as best as I could. If James were, say, a porn star; how would I feel about that? Sex for a porn star was a job, and I’d heard of porn stars who had fulfilling relationships. I’d like to think I’d be supportive, but would I end up jealous anyway?

I noted that a lot of my thoughts circled around jealousy. I can’t say that I’d never been a bit possessive of my partners, but I certainly didn’t think anything I felt was obsessive. I wanted to talk to Q first a bit more, but I did think that James’ “technicalities” were something I could work at dealing with successfully.

At lunchtime Friday, Q surprised me at my workspace carrying some takeout boxes and bags.

“I hope you like Indian,” Q said, depositing the boxes on my desk. “I certainly do,” I replied. “There’s not too much I don’t like. I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to food.”

“Well, that’s a good thing to know. Please, dig in, and there’s naan in the bag.”

We ate quietly and when we were done, I thanked Q for lunch. “So, why bring me lunch, Q? Not that I’m complaining.”

“I wanted to have some time with you. I haven’t seen you much at all this week, and I know that the beginning of the week was difficult for you.”

“I’m feeling better, thanks.”

Q relaxed back into his chair. “Then, I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Have you had a chance to think about James and I? You had said you would Monday, but I know you’ve had a lot on your plate.”

“Actually, I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I wanted to talk to you. How do you do it? Accept James having sex with other people on missions? And the risk he might bring something home?”

Q thought a moment. “It helped that I knew what James did for a living before we got in a relationship. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished he didn’t have to do that; I would prefer James to only have sex in a closed relationship. I know that won’t happen, though. James will do almost anything for Queen and country. For me, supporting him is more important than whether or not he has sex with a mark he couldn't care less about. He comes home _to me_ and he has never given me any inkling that he would prefer running off with someone from his missions. I feel comfortable and confident that while he _has_ to have sex with them, he _wants_ to have sex with me.

“And as to him bringing something home. The worst he ever brought home was a cold sore on his lip, and did that ever piss him off something fierce. He’s never had another one pop up again, but I’m sure he’d warn us if he thought one was. Does that help?”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “That was very insightful and helpful, Q. I’ve made a decision. Did you want to wait for James to be here to talk about it?”

“James won’t be back in the country until quite late tonight. I’d like him to know as soon as possible; I know he’s been chomping at the bit all week waiting to hear your decision. If we go up to my office, we can contact him in his car there.”

Q led me to his office, and he closed the door behind us. He started a Skype-like app on his computer, and called James.

“007 here. Is there a problem, Q?”

It seemed like the webcam for James’ car was in the dashboard; he looked a bit distorted.

“No, no problems. How did things go?” Q asked.

“Smooth as silk, but the weather is bloody awful.” I could hear the squeak of windshield wipers in the background. 

"James, can I get you to pull over for a bit?"

"What's wrong that you need me to pull off?"

"I just want your full attention, and I don't want you driving while we're talking. You see, Amanda has made a decision."

"Right, then. Just give me a moment. Do you know what her answer is?"

"I don't. But she is right here with me."

“Hi, Amanda. I'll be with you in a sec."

“Hi, James. No rush, I'm pretty sure my boss is fine with me not working right now." Q chuckled.

“Okay, I’ve pulled over and stopped. Amanda, can I ask you what your decision is?”

I took a deep breath and looked at Q then at the webcam on Q’s computer to look at James. “I really want to try a relationship with both of you as a third.”

Q pulled me into a fierce hug and kissed me right on the lips.

“Thank God,” was what I heard from James. “Q, give her a kiss for me too.”

Q did, then rested his head on my forehead. “You had me worried there for a bit,” he said.

“Why ever for?”

  “You were asking about James and his missions earlier. I had thought that you didn’t want to deal with that.”

“No, I just wanted to see how you coped, and if it was something I could do as well. I understand how you do it; I probably can now too.”

“Ah, well that’s a good thing.”

“Q, Amanda?” we heard James say.

“We’re still here,” I replied.

“Q, ask Amanda about tomorrow while I get back on the road.” I heard James’ car crunch through gravel, and start speeding up.

“James and I would like you to come over to our home for dinner tomorrow night; James is cooking. By the way, love, what are you cooking?”

  “The ‘Amanda accepted to try out being our third’ meal, of course.”

“Which would have been the ‘Amanda didn’t accept and now we’re crying in our beers’ meal with leftovers?”

“Got it in one, love.”

“Now, please tell Amanda and I exactly what meal that would be; you kind of skipped over that, darling.”

“Right. Any food issues, Amanda?” asked James.

  “I’m not overly fond of brussel sprouts, turnips and rutabagas, but I don’t have any actual allergies or anything.”

“Heathen!” James joked.

“James, no commenting on Amanda’s preferences.” Q winked at me, and I grinned back at him. “Now, the menu please?” 

James hummed. “Tomatoes and fresh mozzarella with olive oil, _risotto_ , _osso buco_ , and a _semifreddo_ for dessert.”

“Osso buco with _gremolata_?” asked Q.

“With gremolata if you want, love.”

My stomach started grumbling even though I had just finished lunch. “I know what risotto is, but what is osso buco?”

“Veal shanks braised with vegetables and wine,” James replied.

"Gremolata?"

"It's kind of a condiment with lemon and herbs."

“And semifreddo? Something half frozen?”

James laughed. “It’s traditionally gelato mixed half-and-half with whipped cream, then frozen. However, I have a recipe that just goes straight to making the semifreddo without needing to make the gelato first. I’ll make it tonight when I get in. Love, can you make sure I have everything I need? I need the ingredients for the semifreddo tonight for sure; my recipe is on our computer’s desktop in a file named ‘Italian recipes’. Any other ingredients we probably can pick up tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick up what you need on the way home tonight.”

“Can I bring something?” I asked. “Wine? Beer?”

“Either. If you go for wine, something red, bright and fruity; if beer, any Innis & Gunn would be just as good.”

“Can I come and help in the kitchen? Chop vegetables? Anything?” I loved to cook, but cooking for one was not a lot of fun and my kitchen wasn’t exactly conducive to a happy cooking experience.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” James asked.

“I really do, I just don’t do it much anymore.”

“I’d like having someone in the kitchen with me. Q would rather scratch his own eyes out than cook. When we first started going out, I swear he lived on pot noodles and delivery.”

“Now James, don’t let Amanda know all our secrets, yeah?” Q smirked.

James laughed. “Yes dear. Can you be ready for around 15:00 tomorrow? Do you want to pick her up, Q?”

“Three would be great, James," I replied.

  “I can pick her up if she wants.”

“Then I’m going disconnect now and focus on the road. I want to get back in one piece; it wouldn’t do to get into a crash now that Amanda has said yes.”

“See you tomorrow, James,” I said.

“I’ll see you at home when you get in, love,” said Q.

James said, “007 out.” The app went dark.

~~~~~

The next day, I was ready for Q to pick me up by 14:30. I had gotten both wine and beer, even though I’d be eating pot noodles for the next two weeks straight. I’d also made sure I shoved an extra pair of pants, a bra, deodorant, a toothbrush and my meds in the bottom of my purse. Neither Q nor James had mentioned doing a scene nor had they said anything about me staying overnight, but I wanted to be prepared just in case.

Q knocked on my door at 15:05. Of course I had worried myself into a state when he was late, telling myself that Q and James had changed their minds, but when I opened the door and saw Q there wearing the cardigan I had knitted, I relaxed. I invited Q in while I grabbed my purse and the alcohol.

“James told me about Maple,” he said, petting him as he wound around his feet.

“He told you how vicious he is, right?”

Q just laughed. “Ready?”

I nodded and Q led me out to his car. The car wasn’t James' Jaguar, but instead was a Ford Fiesta.

“What can I say?” Q said when he opened the door for me. “James doesn’t let anyone drive his Jag, not even me. I don’t drive much, so this is good enough for me.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, and Q drove off. While I was looking out the window, I noticed we were heading in the direction of MI6.

“Do you and James live at MI6?” I joked. “No wonder sometimes it seems like you’re there all the time.”

“No, we just live close by.” Q turned down an alley then into a garage, and parked behind a familiar Jaguar. “We’re here!”

“How close _do_ you live to MI6?” I said, getting out of the car.

Q went up to a computer screen that had been installed near the interior door, and pushed a few buttons. The garage door closed, and the interior door to the house unlocked.

“We’re a less than five minute drive. Come on in,” and Q waved me through the door.

I just realized that James and Q didn’t live in a flat, but a townhouse. The door from the garage opened into a large living area which was open to the floor above. A huge set of sliding windows led to a small terrace which was next to the main road. To the right was a large, modern, spiral staircase, and next to that was the kitchen, where James was cooking.

“Welcome, Amanda! Excellent choice bringing both beer and wine.” He came over and kissed me on the cheek. “Q, give Amanda the grand tour, then bring her back to me, please. I need her help in the kitchen.”

Q led me around the house. Beyond the kitchen looked like an office for either Q or James. Patio doors led to a small but secluded backyard. We went up the stairs, where at the top was a sitting area that looked over the main living area below. The remainder of the second story was divided into a master bedroom with ensuite (with two king sized beds I noticed curiously), a second bedroom and a large, luxurious bathroom.

The style of their house was eclectic but warm. Simple, clean edges married with worn barn wood to feel up-to-date and comfortable. I certainly wasn't expecting the homey, lived-in feel at all; with the time Q and James spent at MI6 I was surprised they were here enough to make their house a home.

"So what do think?" asked James, who was chopping vegetables on a butcher block. Q snuck up behind James and nuzzled his neck while stealing a piece of carrot.

"Your home is lovely, James, Q."

"You," James said, playfully waving his knife at Q. "Out. And stop stealing the vegetables. You can sit at the table and keep us company. Amanda, do you mind helping me out?"

"Not at all. Just tell me what to do."

James switched spots with me and asked me to finish chopping an onion and some celery. James turned the stove and started heating oil in a large enamelled pot.

"You're unfamiliar with osso buco, right?"

I said yes, and James started explaining the dish to me. It didn't seem complicated, and I told James that.

"Honestly," he said, "if you've made any kind of stew, it's really the same concept. Nice knife work, by the way."

"Now that you've said that, you know I'm going to cut myself," I said, and he laughed in reply.

He dredged the veal shanks in flour and put them in the smoking hot pan. While he browned the veal and got the rest of the ingredients in the pot, I washed up the few dishes that had accumulated.

"When I get this in the oven, can I get you both a beer? Q?" James asked.

Q motioned for me to come sit at the kitchen table as both he and I agreed to a beer. When James was done, he also grabbed a beer for himself then came to sit at the table.

"There are a few topics that we didn't cover Monday that we wanted to talk about before we move forward," said Q.

Both James and Q pushed papers towards me. They were their latest blood tests; both were clean. I grabbed my purse, opened my wallet and pulled out a couple of slightly crumpled papers. I unfolded them and pushed them over. Q and James looked at them, and I could see the questions they had float across their faces.

"Yes, those are my most recent test results. I know they're 8 months old, but I haven't had a scene or intimate contact since. The other paper shows I have had a tubal ligation. I don't want kids, so I was proactive about that a few years ago. If you want more recent results, I have no issues going and getting them redone."

Q shook his head and took a sip of his beer. “James? Issues?” Q asked. James also shook his head no. “Next: safe words. I’m assuming you have them?”  

I swallowed my own mouthful of beer. “Green is, well, green, though I may add qualifiers like I did Monday, if that is allowed.”

“Absolutely it is,” Q replied.

“Yellow is ‘steek’.”

“I’m sorry, ‘steak’?”

“No, ‘steek’: ‘tee’ with an s to start and a k to finish. ‘Steek’ It’s a knitting term where you actually cut through the fabric you have knitted. It’s nerve-wracking to do because you’re cutting through your completed knitting and everything could unravel and go terribly wrong. But if you go slowly, and are prepared, the end result can be exactly like you imagined. Generally I’ll use it when I’m really nervous about something or afraid a situation could go wrong because I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I’ll also use it when I’m getting close to a soft or hard limit, but I’m not there yet.”

“That’s pretty unusual, but I can see why you’d use it,” said James.

“Red is ‘gansey’. Let’s just say, I’ve had some discussions with someone who was absolutely positive he was right and everyone else was wrong; he’s written a number of long winded diatribes about waterproof ganseys. Generally, the Doms who I’ve ‘gansey’ safe worded out with have been the ones who were absolutely sure they knew my limits better than I did. That’s usually why I’d call a red safe word; I’ll use ‘steek’ well before I ever get to ‘gansey’.”

“‘Gansey’ doesn’t refer to Stephen, does it?” asked Q.

“Good God, no. That would be like screaming out someone else’s name in the throes of passion: gauche and just…eww.”

“Q and I want you to know our safe words as well, although we only have red safe words. An extra pair of ears during a complicated scene is always welcome; never worry about saying you think you heard a safe word. We’d rather not hurt each other unintentionally if we can avoid it. My safe word is ‘vesper’.”

“Like matins in church?” I asked.

“Same word, different meaning for me.”

I nodded.

“Mine is ‘blue screen’,” said Q and I laughed.

“Like ‘blue screen of death’?” I asked.

“Mmm, exactly,” Q said, chuckling.

“There was one thing I forgot to mention on Monday: please don’t call me ‘Mandy’. I’m sure James understands why, but for you Q: ‘Mandy’ is what my ex calls me. I don’t like it.”

“That’s not a problem. Anything else?”

“Nothing comes to mind,” I replied.

“One other thing you forgot, Q: who to contact in case of an emergency. Friend? Family?” James asked.

I took a long gulp of my beer. “No one,” I said. “Although if something does happen to me, I’ll need someone to take care of Maple. He usually has enough food down for about a day and a half after I’ve left him.”

“I’m sorry, but did you you just say that?” asked Q, his brow furrowed. “You have no emergency contact? Parents? Siblings? Friends from MI6 or Martha’s?”

  I shrugged. “My parents are dead, and I have a sister, but she’s a drug addict and I lost contact with her years ago. She may be dead for all I know, and I really have no desire to find her. And I don’t have friends close enough that I’d want them contacted in an emergency; I just don’t. What?” I saw that Q and James were staring at me and it was starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

“But…” started Q.

“But what?”

“You’re _nice_. Too nice to not have anyone.”

I laughed. “I might be nice, but I have a hard time trusting people. I let them get only so close, then I tend to back off. At places like Martha’s, I blend into the background; middle aged, nothing striking or memorable about me. People don’t see me because I’m nice: nice and boring.”

James laughed at that. “You might be nice, but you certainly aren’t boring. Monday at the pub was proof of that. And your kinks? Definitely not boring. I mean ‘gun play’? Really _not_ boring.”

“Okay, so I have a few hidden secrets. But generally, what you see is what you get. Anyway, that’s it.”

We all sipped our beers for a few moments. Then Q said, “You haven’t said anything about a scene tonight.”

“You didn’t mention it, and I didn’t want to presume. You both said ‘dinner’ and that’s the only thing I’m expecting.”

“You pay attention,” Q said.

“I do my best.”

“You didn’t _ask_ for a scene either.”

“No. You invited me to your home for dinner. You were gracious enough to take my food dislikes into account. I just…wouldn’t ask that.”

“But if I were to offer?” said Q.

“I wouldn’t say no. Let’s just say all I was expecting was dinner, but there was more than a bit of hope that we’d actually do something tonight.”

Q nodded. “Maybe after dinner? Right now, I’d like to maybe move into the living room and chat about other things for a while.”

“Sounds lovely,” I replied, and followed Q into the living room.

James stopped by the oven to check on the veal, then came to join us.

"We have about an hour before I have to go start the risotto," James said.

"So how was your drive from...wherever you were yesterday?" I asked James.

James told me he had been driving back back from Italy when Q and I had video chatted with him yesterday. He'd hit some bad weather and when he travelled into France the weather cleared but then the Gendarmerie had chased him for a while.

"James, why didn't you pull over for the police?" I asked.

He gave me a wink and said, "I had semifreddo to make. Couldn't be late. Have you been to France or Italy, Amanda?"

I had wanted to go to Paris for a long time, but Steven never wanted to go, and now my finances prevented it. I shook my head and said, "Maybe someday I'll get to Paris or Rome. Q? What about you?"

When Q started talking about some holidays he had taken with James, James would interrupt and interject comments: about Q's fear of flying, the occasions they had lost luggage, or the time they ended up in the middle of nowhere with no connectivity to wifi or satellite and Q went into internet withdrawal. Our conversation flowed and was simple and easy; before I knew it, it was time for James to start the risotto. James asked me if I would help him in the kitchen and I agreed. Q said he had a few things to do, but he would come and keep us company in the kitchen in a bit.

James and I worked well in the kitchen together. Once I figured out where a few necessities like cutting boards and knives were, we fell into an easy rhythm of me prepping and James doing the cooking.

I didn't notice Q returning to the kitchen, but at some point he sat down at the table. It seemed that in no time at all, the cooking was done, and James and I joined Q at their small kitchen table for dinner. Dinner itself was magnificent; it had been a long time since I had had a well-prepared home-cooked meal by someone other than me. I only had one glass of wine with dinner in hope that Q's "maybe" for a scene would end up being a "yes".

We were finishing up the last mouthfuls of James' decadent dessert when Q said, "So, you had said earlier you were hoping to do a scene. Are you still up for that?"

I looked at Q and James and smiled.

"Absolutely."

James cleared the remaining dishes off the table and put them in the sink, put the leftovers in the fridge, then came back to sit at the table with us.

Q started. "I would like to do a scene with just you and I tonight. James will be present, with your permission, as my sub. He won't be your Dom, so if he talks to you or asks you to do something, it will be only if I allow it and/or you want to."

"I'd like it if James were present."

"That's fine, then. James, Amanda and I will meet you in the living room in a few minutes."

James left.

“So, what do you want me to call you in scene?” I asked.

“Jeffery is fine. James and I already have discussed tonight. For you and I, this evening is going to be very relaxed. We're not going to do anything challenging tonight; instead I want tonight to be about building trust. How does that sound?"

"Unusual."

"So what do you find unusual about my plan?"

I thought. At Martha's, no matter how early in the night a Dom and I would start, there was always a time limit. Both the Dom and the sub wanted to get their needs met, so you had to go into a scene giving a certain amount of trust right off the bat.

I told Q this and he said, "Well, we have no time limits, really. We can go as slow or as fast as we want. But coming from my perspective and with your experiences, I'd prefer to go slow. I want our trust to built on a foundation of it being earned rather than expected."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "What you are saying sounds lovely. It's just going to take me some time to get used to going at a slower pace. It's been a long while since I've had the luxury of time."

"The one thing I would like to do, at least for the next few scenes, is give you a basic idea of my plan before we start out scene. I really heard heard you on Monday; I don't want anything I do to trigger a bad reaction. You say 'steek' when you are worried about what is going to happen next. I'd like to avoid placing you in that kind of situation, and I won't go anywhere near your limits for 'gansey'. You said that touch and praise are required, and that restraints are a 'yes'."

I nodded.

"Tonight, that's all we're going to do. I like to do a very gentle rope restraint on your wrists, then maybe we can watch telly together with you next to me. What do you think?"

"Sounds really great, actually. Now what are my requirements from you? No speaking unless spoken to, obeying you, that kind of thing?"

"Honestly, nothing like that at all. Other than your wrists being restrained, you and I being in contact, and you calling me Jeffery, I have no other requirements or expectations. I'd like us to talk freely; you don't need my permission to speak. I want to know what you're thinking, what you're experiencing. I want James to hear what you have to say. Do you think you're ready?"

"I think I was born ready for what you are suggesting. Lead on, Jeffery."

"Not 'lead on Macduff'?"

"Last time I checked, your name right now is Jeffery," I said, laughing and giving him a wink.

He laughed back and guided me to the living room. James was sitting patiently in a chair, one foot crossed over the other knee. "Problems?" he asked.

Jeffery looked at me, smiled, and said, "Not a one." He led me to the sofa, and we sat down. On the coffee table in front of us was a coil of rope dyed in a vibrant spring green. One end had been knotted into what looked like a flower with an interlocking centre and loops for the petals. I was stunned; it was the happiest rope I'd ever seen, if one could call rope happy.

Jeffery smiled. "When you had said on Monday at the pub that your ‘green’ at the time was a ‘happy, lively green’, this is what I thought of: the green of spring buds. This is your rope and your colour; I won't use either on anyone else including James. The knot on the end is called the ‘Good Luck Knot’; I'm hoping it will bring our relationship luck." He picked up the knot, loosened it and looked at me. "If you're ready, can you hold your wrists out to me?"

I took a deep breath in and held my arms out to him. He picked up the rest of the rope and carefully proceeded to tie my wrists. The rope was about three feet in length, and surprisingly he didn't bind my wrists together. He tied one wrist with one end of the rope, and the other end was tied around the other. Though my wrists were tied, they weren't really restrained; the remainder of the rope was loose between them. Jeffery grabbed the rope into a loop close to my wrists, and gave it a light tug.

My brain changed tracks with that simple tug. Thought ceased, and my brain was filled with light fluffy nothingness.

"Amanda? How's that?" Jeffery asked.

"Heavenly. 'S been a long time. Forgot how much I needed it."

"Excellent. Now, do you want to watch some telly? You're our guest, so guest's choice."

It had been quite a while since I'd watched anything, so I tentatively said, “Top Gear?"

I heard Jeffery chuckle and James said, "You watch Top Gear?"

Jeffery placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close so I was curled up to him. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"'S okay. I haven't for a while because I don't have a tv. I mean telly. What can I say? Gorgeous cars, hosts that work well together, the Stig and a few laughs; I don't really want much more. Plus, I get to learn something."

"Top Gear it is then." Jeffery said, and turned on the telly.

I lucked out as the BBC was having a Top Gear marathon night. As the evening progressed, I got more relaxed and ended up sliding down and resting my head in Jeffery's lap. He pet my hair, and would murmur to me simple things like: "You're doing so well," or "It's lovely to see you let go. You're gorgeous like this." I soaked up his praise like rain in a parched desert.

The Top Gear marathon then showed an episode I hadn't seen before. I perked up a bit and was watching with a bit more attention. One of the hosts was acting like a smug jerk when I said, "Fuck, Jeremy can be an asshole." As soon as I said it, I felt mortified. "Oh God, Jeffery I'm so sorry!” I had cussed in presence of my Dom, which was generally a huge no-no for most of the Doms I had been with.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Swearing in you presence."

"You're an adult; I'm pretty sure you're allowed to swear. Besides, you saying 'asshole' instead of 'arsehole' is kind of cute. Very Canadian.”

"But I swore during our scene!"

Jeffery just tugged on my rope and carded his fingers through my hair. "I'm not angry or upset. I told you you can speak freely, remember?"

I hummed a positive response and relaxed. I let the remainder of the program wash over me. By the time the next one started, I was unknowingly falling into drowsiness, and by the end, I was asleep.

~~~~~

I woke up because I was getting a crick in my neck. That and, while I slept, I had somehow turned over and now had my face in Jeffery’s crotch, which was nice but not what I was expecting. I startled, and a hand from behind steadied me from rolling off the sofa.

“Have a good rest?” Jeffery asked. He was still holding onto the rope and had his other hand on my shoulder.

I nodded. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, especially during a scene.”

Jeffery simply shrugged and said, “You being so relaxed that you fell asleep restrained told me a lot. It made me feel good that you were comfortable enough to trust me so much.”

“James?”

  “James is fine. He’s curled up at my feet right now and I think he’s asleep.”

“I don’t think he is; he stopped me from rolling off the sofa onto him.”

“James?” Jeffery asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

James hummed an affirmative.

“What time is it?” I asked. Now that the fog of sleep had lifted a bit, I noticed that the house was dark, and quiet music played in the background.

“Around half twelve,” Jeffery replied.

“Shit!” I bolted upright. “I’m going to miss the last subway train! I’ve got to get going.”

Jeffery just wrapped his arms around me. “We’re still not finished our scene; I’m not letting you go without aftercare. There’s no way you can catch the tube tonight. James already offered to drive you home, or, if you want, you can stay here overnight and head home tomorrow.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t need any aftercare.” I gently pulled myself from Jeffery’s arms and curled into his side.

“The rope, unfortunately, is quite desiccating; I want to make sure your wrists are well moisturized.”

“You’re sure I can stay? I’d...really prefer that. How would that work?”

  “The spare bedroom is ready for you. I think that’s probably a good place to start for tonight.”

I frowned. “But…”

“But what?”

I looked at Jeffery’s crotch and back up to his eyes.

He sighed. “Our scenes do not have to include any sexual touching, and they're certainly not tit-for-tat. Just because you got restrained, doesn’t mean that a) I didn’t get something out of it or b) you have to get me off.”

I sat back, a bit unsure. My previous scenes always had a sexual component to them. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but couldn’t find the right words to say what I needed. I felt lost.

“Amanda, look at me.”

I looked into Jeffery’s eyes, but could only barely make them out in the dark. “How do you feel right now?”  

I thought a moment. “Relaxed. Confused.”

“The relaxed part is good. Can you tell me what you are confused about?”

  “I want to say ‘That’s it? You’re fine with our scene?’ only because I’ve never had a scene that didn’t end up with sex being some part of it.”

“I’m absolutely fine with what we have done tonight; in fact I doubt I could be more pleased.”

“You’re sure?”

  “I don’t lie during scenes. And I won’t especially in our scenes. Right now, I want us to talk about it before we do anything sexual in a scene. Does that help?”

I nodded and relaxed. I hadn’t been sure what Jeffery would have wanted me to do and him having no expectations of me took some of the pressure off.

“Are we done? Can I take the rope off?” he asked.

I nodded and held my arms out to him. He untied me, gave me a bottle of water, and started rubbing lotion into my free wrist. When Jeffery had creamed my other wrist, I said, “Can James come up on the sofa? I can scoot over and he can sit between us. If he wants, of course.”

“Or I can sit in the middle, and James can sit on the other side of me. James?”

James got up, and I noticed he slid a small mat under the sofa. I slid over to the far end of the sofa and, surprisingly, James sat between Q and I. He lifted an eyebrow in question, and I just nodded and slid my feet under one of his thighs. James rested an arm around Q’s shoulders and pulled him in close. I scrunched down so my head was resting on the armrest of the sofa, and I started to doze.

James rested a hand on my leg, and gently shook me awake. “Hey there; come on Amanda, let’s get you set up in the spare room and then it’s to bed for you. Mmm?” I let James guide me upstairs to the second bedroom, where he said goodnight, and I stripped off and fell into the big, soft bed, immediately falling asleep.

~~~~~

I awoke the next morning relaxed but a bit unsettled. I took a quick shower in the extremely well-stocked bathroom (I mean, they had menstrual supplies in the medicine cabinet), and found James sitting in the kitchen, drinking a coffee. It was still quite early, and James simply smiled and nodded over to the coffee-maker. I sighed gratefully, made myself a coffee and slid into a chair at the table across from James.

We made gentle chitchat for a bit, when James said, “Q is going to be asleep ’til probably noon. I was going to go out to a bakery run by some friends of mine to pick up some of Q’s favourite _pains au chocolat_. Would you like to come?” I eagerly agreed.

Our drive was quiet, and, left to my own thoughts, the unsettled feeling of earlier was increasing. I wanted to figure it out, by my thoughts were interrupted by us arriving at the bakery. The bakery looked totally nondescript from the outside; there was only a small sign above the door that read, “Lillia’s Heaven”. The café curtains of the main window were closed. I would have totally passed it by, not knowing it was a bakery.

The gentle tinkle of a bell announced us as we entered. The interior was small, worn, but very clean, and had a couple of two-seater tables. However, the glass case and what was in it took my breath away. It was filled with all sorts of baked goods: croissants, _palmiers_ , _mille-feuilles_ , _macarons_ and other tasty looking pastries. Baguettes were standing straight up in baskets hanging from the walls, and shelves next to the opening in the wall to the kitchen had lots of other kinds of breads. It certainly looked and smelt like heaven.

“James! You’re late! I might have sold Jeffery’s pains au chocolat to someone else!” a tiny older woman said, pinching James’ cheek. James simply rolled his eyes, but blushed as well.

“You’d never do that; you love Jeffery more than me. Lillia, I’d like you to meet a friend of ours: this is Amanda. Amanda, Lillia, the amazing baker who makes the best French baked goods in London.”

Lillia took both my hands in hers, looked into my eyes for a moment, nodded, then smiled and kissed both my cheeks.

“Lillia and her husband Marco have had this bakery for a long, long time. By the way, where is Marco? I’d like him to meet Amanda too.”

Lillia shrugged. “ _C’est Dimanche. Il se sent paresseux, aujoud’hui_.”

“Lillia says that…” James started.

“‘It’s Sunday, and he’s feeling lazy today.’ Got it.” I winked at James’ slightly stunned expression. I turned to Lillia. “ _Je peux parler un petit peu de Français. Un petit peu, seulement_.”

Lillia gave me a big grin. “A little is better than none, _n’est ce pas_?”

I nodded and laughed.

“You’re staying for coffee, oui? I’ll get Tanya to bring some over, and something to eat too. Tanya! _Deux cafés_.” Lillia stopped, looked at me, then continued. “ _Un croissant et un pain aux raisins. Maintenant_ , Tanya! You like raisins?” she asked me.

I smiled. “I love raisins.” Lillia smiled back and shooed James and I to the table in front of the window.

“So, you speak French,” James said.

“As I said to Lillia, only a little bit. I took French all through school, but haven’t kept up with it. I understand way more than I can speak, now.”

“A woman of many hidden talents.”

“Not really.”

“You underestimate yourself, don’t you?”

I shrugged. A young woman, who I assumed was Tanya, brought us our coffees and pastries. She leaned over the table so James could see her generous cleavage, and as she stood she flicked her long hair back. James smiled at her. “Do either of you need sugar or cream?” she asked.

“Both,” I replied, and she wandered off back in the direction of the kitchen. I watched James watch her leave, and a spear of jealousy pierced me. I quickly looked down to my pastry, hoping James hadn’t seen my reaction. He had.

“Amanda? Problem?” he asked.

“Not a one,” I lied. Feeling jealous was my issue, not James’.

“Right. I don’t believe you.” James pulled his chair closer to the table. I then felt him slide one leg between both of mine. Gently but firmly he used his right leg to pin my left leg to the low wall under the window next to us. He kept firm pressure on my leg, keeping it trapped, and he looked at me with his full attention. “I’m here with _you_ , understand? Flirting is a valuable currency in my world. People feel special when you flirt with them, and it makes them want to help out just a bit more.” He pressed my leg a touch harder. “ _This_ is much more serious and important to me than a woman bouncing her tits in my face or a guy casually rubbing his crotch on my leg.” He lessened the pressure, but didn’t let my leg go. Tanya returned with cream and sugar, and placed it on the table in front of us, again leaning over provocatively.

James winked at her, and she said, “Is there anything else you need?” James smiled at her with one of his lust-filled smiles, increased the pressure against my leg again, and replied, “No, I think we’re fine here, Tanya, isn’t it? We’ll let you know if we need anything else. Thanks.” She flicked her hair again and left. He turned back to me and said, “Do you understand?”

  All I could do was nod. He slowly released my leg and it took me a moment to gather my wits to add cream and sugar to my coffee. All the blood in my brain had shifted south when James had restrained my leg; I just needed to calm down and get myself back under control. I took a few deep breaths then looked up at James. Who was smirking.

James started talking about Lillia, Marco and France, and I let his voice wash over me. I thought some about James and his flirting, and my brain drifted back to the uncomfortable feeling of earlier. The two seemed connected, for sure, and Q definitely seemed part of it too.

“Amanda?” James asked

“Oh, sorry James, I was just woolgathering.”

“Are you finished? Do you want to head out?”

I said sure, and James took the box with Q’s pains au chocolat to go get the car. Lillia came over while I was waiting and said, “You know, James is a very loyal man.”

_Oh God,_ I thought. Lillia was going to be another Eve and was going to warn me off.

“Very loyal and faithful. And Jeffery as well.”

_Here it comes,_ I worried.

“I’m glad James brought you. I like you. I bet Jeffery likes you too. You’ll all be happy together if you learn to trust James.”

I looked at Lillia curiously.

“I saw what happened when Tanya brought over your coffees. James flirted. You were jealous but tried to hide it. Then James looked at you like he looked at Jeffery the first time he brought him here. The same look, Amanda. Ah, _voici_ James. Think about what I said, oui? _Bon_. I’ll see you again, Amanda.” She kissed both my cheeks, and went off to her kitchen.

~~~~~

I got into the Jag, and I looked at James. “Lilia told me that you’re loyal and faithful,” I blurted out.

James simply smiled. “Lilia is a smart woman. You should listen to her.”

All of my thoughts from earlier had finally coalesced. What all my unease was about was, at its base, simple: desirability. I worried that Q didn’t want to do anything sexual last night because I thought I wasn’t what he wanted. My jealousy surrounding James was all about him not wanting me either, and finding some other woman more attractive. Of course, I was more than aware that Stephen had a lot to do with my obvious insecurities: he had flirted with the goal of getting another woman into bed, and he withheld sex from me as punishment.

“Oh,” I whispered, unintentionally.

“Did you say something, Amanda?”

“I…um…no, James. Just thinking out loud.”

“Ah. I was just wondering that I’d like to show you something when we get in. Maybe do a small scene together along the lines of what Q and you did last night?” 

“What do you have in mind, or will you tell me?” 

“I’m sure Q talked to you about building trust last night, right?”

I nodded.

“I’d like for us to do the same. Different approach though: no restraints. Simple touching and talking, but it will probably be more intense than last night.”

“More intense than last night? Well, that's piqued my curiosity. I’m up for it.”

“Fine. We’ll start when we get back, okay?”

I nodded and let the purring of the motor relax me as we drove through London. When we returned to the townhouse, Q was awake and working on a computer in the office setup next to the kitchen.

“Morning, Amanda, James. You went to Lillia’s without me?” Q pouted.

“After the week you’ve had, I wanted you to sleep. Besides, I brought you your favourite back.” James handed Q the bakery box.

“Oh, James, you know I love you, right?” Q sighed as he opened the box and picked a pastry out.

“Never doubted it, love. Do you mind if Amanda and I go next door for a bit? We’re going to do a little scene.”

_Next door?_ I thought.

“You two go ahead. I’m going to sit here and stuff my face.”

“Just don’t work too much more. It’s Sunday.”

Q just waved us off, munching.

James guided me to a door that led from the office directly into the townhouse next door. James opened it, led me inside and flicked a few lights on. “We own this townhouse and the one on the other side of the main house too. That one's mostly storage, exercise equipment, and some experimental computer setups for Q.”

The layout of this townhouse was pretty close to the basic structure of the living area we just came from. There was a large space, open to the ceiling, and a second story that overlooked the main area. However, that’s where the similarities stopped. If I had to describe it, I would call it a dungeon, but it didn’t have the same theatrical feel at all. It was dark; the walls and ceiling were painted a deep smoky grey. Skylights punctured the roof, and I noticed they had blinds that could be closed over them. There were huge pendant lights that hung from the ceiling and they lit up certain areas of the main space. I also saw a large machine on the ceiling, but couldn’t tell its purpose. The floor was wood, but there were a few areas of differing texture: bamboo mats, wrestling mats and a small pad of concrete. There was a St. Andrew’s cross and a number of other large items pushed to the walls; the floor space was bare except for one corner near the front of the house. That corner had a couple of bookcases, a Persian rug, two wingback chairs and a small table between them with a lamp.

James guided me up the staircase that ran along the wall that divided their houses. The room at the top of the staircase was set up like a bedroom: it had beds, wardrobes, and other simple bedroom furniture. The main bed was a four-poster, and had a headboard as well with numerous rings hanging from it. James showed me that a door led from this bedroom into their main bedroom.

“This is rather impressive, James. You have your own dungeon.”

James led me back down to the first floor.  “We prefer to call it our ‘play house’; ‘dungeon’ is just not us. Come on, Amanda, I’d like to get started if you’re ready.” He led me to the corner with the wingback chairs. “Safe words?”

  “Green, steek and gansey.”

“Good. Use them if you need to. Speak freely.” James sat in one of the chairs, and placed a few throw pillows from the other chair on the floor between his legs. “You seemed to like this at your flat.” He held out his hand to me, and I took it, sinking onto the pillows. He gently guided my head to rest on one of his thighs, and he starting petting my hair.

“Amanda, I want you to trust me.”

“I do…”

“No. You just don’t distrust me. There’s a difference. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to help you learn to trust me, and I have an idea. First though, I want to let you know a few things. Here in our play house there are two rules: we don’t lie to one another, and we only share what happens in here to people outside if everyone agrees.

“First: about the lying. If things are getting more than a little uncomfortable, use your steek safe word. Don’t not say it thinking you’ll disappoint your Dom. We will be infinitely more disappointed when we find out something was bothering you and you didn’t say anything. You saying ‘gansey’ will stop things immediately, no questions asked, and you will never be punished for using it. The flip side of ‘no lying’ is that when I ask you a question, I want to know the truth. I don’t want to hear what you _think_ I want to hear.

“We, as your Doms, won’t lie to you to manipulate you, shame you, or hurt you. We won’t lie to get you to go beyond your limits. We will be as honest as we can be; however both Q and I have higher security clearances than you, so we may not be able to answer some questions you may ask.

“Second: about talking outside of here. Q and I have found it helpful to have a space where we know secrets won’t escape from. It works best for us, and we request that you don’t share what happens in here with anyone else. If this is a problem for you, then let me know now.”

I shook my head no. Nothing James said was inappropriate or risky; their play house seemed like a safe place to me.

“Okay then. Today, I want you to learn about me. I’d like you to ask 10 questions of me; anything you want and nothing is off limits. If you’re okay with my answers, I’ll ask you one question, then want you to tell me one thing I don’t already know about you. It can be anything like your favourite ice cream or something from your childhood; your choice.”

This was as different a scene to what I was used to as Q’s was last night. “This is a scene?”  

“Absolutely it is. Just a little stranger than you are used to, I’m thinking.”

I nodded and gathered my thoughts. I could ask James anything. What did I want to know? What would help me trust him? He just kept petting my hair. I figured I’d start out with something easy.

“Do you have family? Parents? Siblings? Aunts and uncles and cousins?”

James sighed. “No, I don’t. I was orphaned and I don’t have siblings. My one aunt is dead. Q, as my partner, is the closest thing I have to family. He _is_ my family.”

“How long have you worked as a 00?”

“A long, long time. It’s classified, so I can’t tell you exact dates, but longer than you have worked at MI6.”

“I’m not sure if I can ask my next question…”

“Go ahead anyway. I’ll tell you if I can’t.”

  “Have you, umm, killed anyone?”

James just laughed. “Considering 00’s have a licence to kill, I’d have to say that was part of the job description when I signed up. Seriously though, yes, I have killed people. More than one. Lots more, unfortunately.”

Oh. “Would you kill me? Or Q if you were ordered to?”

James laughed again. “I’d have to kill you only if you were a Canadian spy here looking to overthrow the British government. I’m pretty sure you’re not, so you have no worries about that. As to Q: only if he were the most vile traitor on the face of the Earth ready to nuke us all into orbit. He’d never do that, trust me he’s had plenty of opportunities, so I doubt highly that will ever be asked of me.”

“Favourite part of being a 00?”

“Truly, knowing I’m keeping England safe.”

  “I’m surprised about that. I would have expected the exotic locales, the different foods and people would be so exciting.”

“Travel has been reduced to boring airports and bad rental cars. I never have time to sightsee when I’m working, so a lot of time I’m in bland hotels, seedy bars or mediocre restaurants. The people break down into three groups: those helping me, those wanting to hurt me and everyone else whom I really don’t give a damn about unless they get in the way. It’s like that everywhere. Not as glamorous as it sounds, is it?”

I shook my head no.

“You’ve got five more questions.”

“Um…sexual history?”

“Oof. Where do I even start? Let’s put it this way: more than I can count or remember. Granted, I’m including people from missions, but still.”

“Relationships before Q?”

“Two. Both women. I married Tracy. But she was killed on our wedding day.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

James shrugged. “It was a long time ago. The other woman was Vesper. I gave up MI6 for her. She died too.”

“Vesper? Your red safe word?”

“The same.” It certainly didn’t seem like James wanted to talk about them anymore, and I didn’t feel like pushing, so I moved on.

“Will you marry Q?”

I could feel James’ eyes on my head. “Perhaps. Maybe. I don’t know. Not the clearest answers, but the only answers I can give.”

“That’s fine, James. You’re being honest. Two more questions, right?”  

“Right.”

“Favourite part of being a switch?”

“I get the best of both worlds, of course. As a sub, I get to let someone else take control, if I can give it up, that is. As a Dom, I like the challenge of trying to please my partner and myself. Okay, last question, make it a good one.”  

I smiled. “What’s your favourite meal?”

“Seriously? You could ask me anything and you ask me that?”

“Why not? Come on, give it up.”

“Hmm. Roast beef with gravy. Roast potatoes. Yorkshire puddings. Mashed turnip. Trifle for dessert.”

“Why?”

“Good memories. I remember Sunday dinner with my parents, and Mum usually made all of that. Not terribly exotic, just…homey.”

I understood.

“So, did I answer your questions to your satisfaction?”

“I’m more than satisfied, James. Go ahead, you ask me whatever you want.”

James just sat and petted my hair for a while, and I shifted a bit to get more comfortable.

“Stephen.”

“Is there a question in there, James?” I asked.

James sighed softly. “Tell me whatever you want to about him.”

“Stephen and I met at a club in my last year of university. I was finishing up a degree in fine arts, and he was an international student in the computer engineering program. The club we met in was a BDSM club; a previous boyfriend had introduced me to a few of his kinks, and I discovered I had my own. I remember the first time I saw Stephen: he was focused on me like I was the whole world. He came over and introduced himself, and that was the start of everything: us dating, him being my Dom, everything.

“I’d like to say I was young and naive. I guess I was; I certainly thought I was smarter than other women who ended up in abusive relationships. I knew I would never let that happen to me, but it did. But it was all so subtle; I couldn’t separate out regular relationship things from our Dom/sub relationship. It all got so intertwined.” I paused, frowning. “Can I stop there? It’s still all a bit much.”

  “Absolutely. You did perfectly, Amanda. Do you need a break?”

I shook my head no. I knew there was only one thing left to do.

“I want you to share one thing with me I don’t already know. Can you do that? Volunteer something for me?”

I took a deep breath in and nodded. What I was about to share was not going to be easy, but it was really important as I wanted to be honest with him as he was with me. “I can, but I’d like to share it with Q too, with your permission. It’s important for both of you as my Doms. Q needs to know this.” I looked up to James.

He looked confused, but nodded anyway. He sent a text to Q, and within moments, he was there with us.

“Problems, James? Amanda?”

“No problems,” I replied, “but James has asked me to share something he doesn’t already know with him. I need you to be here too. Can you stand next to James’ chair?”

  Q shifted, and I moved out of the safety of James’ legs. I knelt with my back to them, my bum on my heels. I could tell I was starting to flush out of nervousness, but I was determined to go through with this. I unbuttoned my shirt, and slowly revealed my back to them. I heard a hiss of intake of breath from one of them; I wasn't sure who. I let my shirt fall to the floor, then I undid my bra strap, leaving the shoulder straps on.

My back was a twining network of scars. Some were long scars from whips or canes, some were circular burn scars from Stephen’s cigars. One scar was particularly ugly; a chunk of skin got removed over my left lower ribs and it healed irregularly.

“Oh, Amanda,” I heard Q whisper.

I heard motion, and then James was kneeling in front of me. “I told you I stayed too long. I told you I let him do too much,” I said.

James placed his hands on either side of my face. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe so, but I still got punished anyway.”

Q came over and sat beside James, who let my face go. Q asked, “Do any of them still bother you? Do you have other scars or injuries we should know about?  “

"They’re all pretty old, so none of them hurt anymore.” I let the shoulder straps of my bra slide down, and the top of the cups folded over so they could see my chest. “I have cigar burn scars on my chest and my breasts, and a few random scars on my abdomen and thighs.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t react worse when you saw him on Monday. You actually stayed very composed. I’m quite impressed.” James said. Then, he unbuttoned his own shirt and let it fall unnoticed to the floor. I gaped at what I saw: James’ body had numerous scars as well. The largest was one near a shoulder and it looked like an exploding star.

“We all have scars, Amanda,” James said, “only yours and mine are more visible. However, most of mine were caused because of my job. Yours were caused by someone you loved and trusted, and that makes them all the worse.” He leaned forward, and pulled me into his arms. I felt Q’s hand ghost over my back, touching me so gently and carefully it made me want to cry. I sighed instead, just feeling James’ and Q’s warmth soak into me.

“You did exceptionally well today, sweetheart,” James said holding me close. “Q and I want you to stay here as long as you can today; we don’t want to just let you go home to an empty apartment. Not after all of this.”

“Maple?”

“I thought you said he’d be okay for a few days,” Q replied.

“He will, but he’s a good support. He takes care of me. And…”

“And what? What else?” asked James.

“I just want to hide. Under the blankets with Maple and my crocheting. Hide until work tomorrow.”

“Understandable. What if James or I sit with you a bit at your flat? Would that do?”

I nodded. “James, would you take me home? I want to finish this with you. Is there anything else you need from me? I’m kind of done right now.”

“We’re finished. Did you still want to stay a while?”

“Honestly? I just want to go home, if that’s okay.”

James hummed softly and nodded. I did up my bra and buttoned up my shirt; James also put back on his shirt. We all went back to the main living area next door and James closed the door to the play house behind us.

“Well, Q and James, this was quite the weekend. Different, but I did enjoy myself.”

“Next time, we can do something a little more traditional. Will there be a next time? We haven’t scared you off?” asked Q.

“Oh, Q.” I rested my hand on his cheek. “Your approach may be different, but it’s something I find intriguing. I’d certainly love to keep going with you both.” I lightly kissed him on the lips, and turned to James. “Thank you both for the weekend. James, maybe next time I can cook for you? If I can borrow your kitchen?”

James kissed me, then leaned his forehead on mine. “Of course I’ll let you cook.” He straightened up. “Do you want to head out now?”

  I nodded and told Q I’d see him tomorrow. He smiled back, then James and I left.

~~~~~

As soon as I got back into my flat, I headed to the bathroom to change into an oversized t-shirt I used as a nightie while James went to put leftovers into my fridge. When I returned to the living room, James looked at me, storm clouds rolling over his face.

“Do you want to explain this?” he said, and he opened the fridge door so I could see inside. I looked in, and saw nothing unusual: there was a bit of milk, a little piece of cheese and a couple of yogurts.

“What?”

“And this?” he said, opening the cupboard I used to hold my tinned goods. In there was a box of tea and a bowl of sugar, a tin of beans, some pot noodles, and a couple of cans of tuna.

“I still don’t understand. What are you asking?”

“Where the fuck is your _food_? I know we got paid on Friday. Even Q had more in his cupboards than this when we started seeing each other, and he doesn’t even cook!”

“So what! I haven’t gone shopping yet!” I lied. The wine and beer had taken up most of my food budget until my next pay.

“But you went shopping enough to bring wine and beer to our house!”

“You do that when someone invites you to dinner!”

“Not if it means you won't eat for the next _two bloody weeks_!”

All the emotions that had been swirling within me for the past day finally decided they wanted out. “What the fuck do you want me to say, James? I’m skint? Well I am; I’m fucking skint as hell. Last night was the first fresh meat I’ve had in, fuck, I don’t even know how long. I barely remember what a fresh piece of _fruit_ tastes like. Is that what you wanted to know?”

“Why didn’t you say something to me or Q?”

“Say what? Tell you my divorce left me with so much debt it takes most of my pay? Then rent, an Oyster card and taking care of Maple kills the rest?”

“Why aren’t you getting alimony? Why didn’t your debts get divided fairly?”

“I gave up my right to alimony to get away from Stephen! It was part of the divorce agreement!”  

“But your barrister…”  I slumped down on the corner of my bed and rubbed my face with my hands. James sat down next me and said, “Tell me who your barrister was and I’ll get them disbarred.”

“James, it wasn’t my lawyer’s fault. I’m grateful he even took me on; he could have lost his whole practice just by representing me.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know, do you? You didn’t recognize him at the pub, did you?”

James shook his head.

“Stephen. Stephen is Stephen Thomas Barrett. He owns STB Solutions.”

STB Solutions was a business that created individualized computer programs which integrated seamlessly with both PCs and Macs for large companies. Stephen was one of the wealthiest people in the UK, and his company made billions of pounds each year.

James narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re telling me your ex is disgustingly wealthy, and you live in this shit hole?”  

“And everyday, I’m grateful. Because I got out with my life. It may be a shit hole, but it’s my shit hole, understand?”

“Then let Q and I help.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t need your help. Now, just get the fuck out.” I was tired; so fucking tired.

“But, Amanda, I was going to sit with you…”

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

He rose, and as he was leaving he said, “I’ll text later, okay?”

“Don’t.”

James sighed and left, closing the door gently behind him.

~~~~~

I curled up under my blankets with Maple and with my head covered for a long time. I heard texts ping my mobile a few times; I had no desire to talk to James so I ignored them. Then my mobile started to ring for incoming calls. I let the first few go to voice mail, but by the fifth set of rings, I snatched up my mobile and answered.

“What? I don’t want to talk about this, James.”  

“Uh, Amanda? It’s not James, it’s Q. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sure James already told you, so don’t play with me.”

“All I know is that when James came in, well, let’s just say I haven’t seen him that angry in a very long time. He’s so angry, he can barely speak. He’s been hitting a punching bag pretty much continuously since he got in. So, are you going to fill me in?”

“James…just…put his nose in where it didn’t belong. I got angry at that and kicked him out.”

“Right. I’m guessing there’s a little more than that to it?”  

“There is, but really, it’s none of your business, or James’.”

“You’d let us know if you need help, right?”

“Q, just don’t fucking go there.”

“Look. I more than realize how important your independence is. However, there is no shame in having your friends help. _Everyone_ needs help sometimes, even James, although he’d probably deny it. He gets himself into some tight spots, and Q-Branch is always there to get him out; so even Mr. 007 himself needs help. We would never do anything to hinder you independence; you’re an adult and you make your own decisions. But there’s also no reason to needlessly suffer, okay?”

“I hear you, but I’m just not going to talk about this right now.”

“Fine, but I’m going to warn you. If something has James this riled up, we’re all going to have to talk about it sooner rather than later.”

“That’s fine. Just not tonight. Good night, Q. See you in the morning?”  

“Of course. G’night.”

~~~~~

I dreaded my usual Monday morning meeting with Q. I was feeling a mixture of shame and comfort: shame that Q and James knew how tight my finances were, but comfort in knowing no matter how bad I had it, things could be worse _and_ I wasn’t in a relationship with Stephen.

Q acted like always during our work meeting, but when we were done, he shut the door of my workspace.

“I’ve shut off the video feed from your workspace so no worries about anyone finding out what we’re talking about here,” he said. “James calmed down enough by the time we went to bed to tell me a little about what happened between you two yesterday. Normally, if two people I am in a relationship with get into an argument, I refuse to get in the middle of it and make them sort it out. But this affects all of us, so that’s why I’m talking to you. James would be here too, but he’s getting briefed for an unexpected mission and then he’s leaving early in the morning. I gather that you are very tight for money because of debt from your marriage, and you hardly have any food in your flat. Is that correct?”

I nodded. Barely.

“I also gather that your ex owns one of the largest companies in Britain. Also correct?”

I nodded again.

“I want to talk first about your immediate food situation. There is no way James and I are going to be in a relationship with someone and let them go without the basic necessities. How you want to approach this is up to you, but you will eat routinely and healthfully. That does not mean eating two pot noodles instead of one three times a day. Got it?”

“But you're not…”

“I am rather aware, Amanda, that neither James nor I am your mother. If you want to eat cake for dessert every night, neither of us will stop you. However, I am your friend, and James feels he is on his way to being your friend. Friends don’t let their friends go hungry.”

I wanted to give in, but just then my stubbornness reared its ugly head. “It’s not as bad as James is making it out to be. I’m doing fine, really.”

“Right. That’s why James was able to list every item in your fridge and cupboard on two hands with fingers left over. The amount of food at your flat would barely keep a fly alive. I won’t let this go; this is just too bloody serious. So, if you really think you can convince me that it’s not as bad as James thinks, give it your best shot.”

I swallowed, shame reddening my face. “I shouldn’t be in this situation. I’m a grown woman, I should be able to take care of myself.”

“My guess is that you ended up in this situation through absolutely no fault of your own. You are doing the best you can, and you are doing so admirably. You never complain, you never come in late and your work is always exceptional. All we want to do is help you through difficult times. Now, James and I talked a bit of how we can help you out.”

“But you have your own bills to pay: a mortgage and everything else.”

“I should really explain some things to you. Both James and I are rather well off. I have some patents and have made some wise decisions in the stock market, and James has been very fortunate in a few casinos. We’re nowhere as rich as your ex, but we won’t even notice helping you out. We both work so much we barely have time to spend our money, so it just sits gathering interest.”

Oh. Well that explained the three townhouses.

“How will I pay you back?”

“By living a long and healthy life, hopefully with us. If, in the future, you still feel like you have a debt to pay, then help someone else out of a bad situation. Both James and I were helped in the past, and neither of us have forgotten it. Now, I’d like to tell you what James and I discussed.”

I sighed and nodded; my fight just dissolved.

“We thought of three different ways we can go about this. One: James or I take you shopping and we pay at the register. Not our favourite option because we thought it might make you feel uncomfortable, but it is a possibility. Two: We set up a bank account that we all can access. You get a debit card and buy your own groceries. Also not a favourite because we know it’s not fun lugging groceries home on the tube. Three is both James’ and my favourite. We all go shopping together and split things up at our place. You and James can do some cooking for both our freezers if you want: we all get meals to take to work or after a long day to heat up in the microwave. If it would make you feel better, cooking with James would be a way of paying us back in time and effort instead of money.”

God, it would be so awesome cooking real meals in a full kitchen. I had to smile at the thought.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You like option three?”

“The thought of cooking in your kitchen makes me happy. I’d…like…number…three,” I trailed off.

“Fine then, that’s settled. Tonight, you and I will go shopping for necessities.”

“But don’t you want to spend the night with James before he heads out on his mission?”

Q scoffed. “He’s only going to be gone a few days, and with me as his handler, we’ll be butting heads the whole time. We can do a full shop when he gets back, probably on the weekend, but I don’t want you to wait until then. Just come up to Q-Branch after you clock out.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll do that.”

“Now. Stephen.”

I rolled my eyes. "I'm so tired of talking about him. Why do you need to know? My divorce agreement was legal according to the courts. There's nothing anyone can do to change that."

"Things can always be changed. Now, how did Stephen get you in this situation?"

"You have to understand a few things about Stephen. Stephen can charm the Pope to change his religion. He's cunning and ruthless and life is a game he will win at all costs. He will never, ever concede defeat. He’d rather cut off his own leg than give someone a dime he feels they didn’t earn properly from him.”

"He doesn't exactly sound nice, even if I didn't already know a bit about him."

"Stephen would never evoke the word 'nice'. When we met in university, he had so many dreams and plans. He wanted to start STB Solutions, but needed start up money. He convinced me that as his sub, I was obligated to help him out. So much of our lives together were entangled in the Dom/sub relationship. I didn't know any better; I thought I was being a good sub by letting him control things like our finances, what we did in our free time, all of it. He convinced me to open credit cards in my name in Canada, since it was easier for me because I was Canadian and he wasn't. He started STB, we got married, then we came over to England.

"Over the course of our relationship, Stephen effectively took over complete control of my life, right down to how much change I had in my pocket. All our friends were his business associates; I had none of my own.

"When I was finally ready to get divorced, no lawyer would represent me because of the damage Stephen could do to their practices with his power. I did end up finding one, Ryan McMillan, but he was hopelessly outclassed at the start.

"Stephen's lawyers proved to the judge that his company was formed outside our marriage, so I shouldn't receive any profit from it. Stephen was also able to prove that the credit cards in my name would solely be my responsibility as he had received no benefit from it, even though he obviously did. He’d never paid them off; he just let them collect interest all these years. Stephen proposed that if I gave up any right to alimony, he would not contest my divorce request. If he had, I'm sure our divorce would still be going on.

"Ryan tried so hard, but he was one man trying to fight a team of well-paid lawyers who were drowning him in paperwork. I had no access to any assets; I was barely making it paycheque to paycheque. Ryan eventually sat me down and explained the situation: my divorce would take years and more money than I could ever make, even if I worked to a hundred, if I didn't accept Stephen's offer.

"The terms were simple: no alimony, no assets, and I take responsibility for the debt from the credit cards, and he would let me go. I cut my losses and accepted the deal. That's pretty much the story.”

Just then, we heard a soft knock on my door. I told them to enter, then the door opened, and in walked James. I crossed my arms and looked at him.

“So? How’s this going to work?” I said. “Because I’m not apologizing for kicking you out.”

“Umm, you don’t have to. I won’t say I’m sorry about my concern for you, but I am sorry in the way I expressed it.” Q winked and nodded at him.

“Apology accepted, now have a seat,” I replied. He sat down next to Q. “You were right, James. I’m having a really hard time making ends meet, and the only place I can cut back on is food. Q told me about your offer to help me with groceries, and I accepted. I’m very…grateful, James, Q.” James let out a breath of relief. “We talked about your options for helping me out, and I preferred the option where we shop and cook together. What do you think?”

James smiled. “That was my choice too. I really enjoyed cooking with you, and I want to do more of it. It will benefit us all as then maybe Q will eat more frequently if he has food in his office fridge, instead of skipping meals because he would have to trudge to the cafeteria.” Q just rolled his eyes.

“I know you have a mission in the morning, but Q offered to take me out to pick up some essentials tonight. Are you coming, or do you have more prep work to do?”

“We’ll see how I’m doing at the end of the day, okay? Now, have you both had a chance to talk about your finances?”

I told him we had, and gave him a quick version of what I had told Q.

"He's a right bastard, isn't he," commented James.

"He's a very rich, highly connected, vengeful bastard, James," I replied.

"How can Q and I help?"

"This isn't like my food budget problems, James. I don't need nor do I want your help."

"But Amanda! Your ex has bloody well shafted you!"

"Maybe, but I'm also paying for the things that, in the end, I am responsible for."

"But..."

"No buts, James. My life is _my_ life, and that's all that really matters."

James opened his mouth to say something, but Q just rested his hand on James' arm to quiet him.

"Leave her be. She's allowed her choices."

I smiled at Q to show my relief at his insight.

"I guess I'll have to leave it at that. I don't know about either of you, but someone, _Q_ , slept in and I missed getting breakfast. Shall we head to to the caf for something to eat? My treat?"

I knew what James was doing: he was being diplomatic about buying me a meal, and this was a small test to see if I was still going to put up a fight.

"It's not time for my coffee break, but I'll go if my boss lets me," I replied with a smile at Q.

"I think I'll let you go. It seems only fair since I'm going too."

~~~~~

I hadn't thought how people would view me with James and Q until we were finishing up our coffee break. Texts pinged both James' and Q's mobiles; they both pulled them out to check them.

"I guess I'm leaving early," James said.

"I suppose you are," replied Q. "You run home and pick what you need then head out. James' flight's been moved up, so he'll be flying out in a couple of hours," Q explained to me. "I'll get Amanda home after taking her shopping, take a nap, then I'll be back to handle you at 01:00. That should give you plenty of time to get organized and ready there, James. Don't forget your kit, though."

"It's already in the car, dear." James laughed, then kissed Q on the mouth. "I'll talk to you later then, love." James then turned to me, kissed me on the cheek and said, "I'll see you in a few days, Amanda. We'll go shopping on the weekend and do some cooking, okay?"

"Sounds good. Have a safe mission, James," I said, and he left.

Q was still on his phone when I had a feeling of being watched. I looked around and noticed a few people quickly averting their eyes, a few more whispering to their coworkers, and some blatantly staring at me.

“Umm, Q?” I murmured low.

“Just a sec; let me finish this text. Okay, yes?”

  “I think we’re going to be fodder for the rumour mill; people are staring at me, I think because James kissed my cheek.”

Q leaned back and looked around. Everyone turned back to their business. “Will this be a problem? We can’t put the genie back in the bottle. James and I have long ago given up caring about what people are saying about us, and now you are going to be part of that. Can you deal with it?”

“Q, I’ve dealt with so much shit in my life, being the focus of rumours is the least of my problems. As long as you are okay,” Q nodded, “then don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl and I can handle it.”

“Just let me know if things get out of hand, right? Now, I’ve got to get back. You finish your coffee and return to work when you’re ready."

“I’ll take my coffee to go right now.” I went to get up and he gently grabbed my hand. He kissed the back of my hand and then wrapped his long fingers around mine. As we were leaving the caf, Q said, “Well, at least that will give the gossips something to really talk about.”

I just laughed and we returned to work. I couldn’t do much else other than laugh; I’d never been outed in such a public way before. I certainly could handle other people being aware of me being in a poly relationship, I was just glad James didn’t announce to the world our burgeoning BDSM relationship.

I was still chuckling to myself when I went into the staff room to pick up my pay stub from the week before. I grabbed it, and all my other snail mail, from my cubby and returned to my workspace. I sorted through my mail: my pay stub, a few interdepartmental memos (why didn’t people use _email_ instead of killing trees?), and the MI6 internal newspaper _Eyes on Spies_ (Simon R. in Accounting has worked at MI6 for 25 years! Congratulations to Simon!).

The last piece of mail was curious. It was a creamy, square, card stock envelope, addressed to me with no return address. I opened it, and sighed. The note was on the same creamy paper as the envelope, the writing was very familiar, and it read:

_Dear Amanda,_

_Seeing you on Monday at The Devil’s Harp Tavern reminded me how much I miss you. Please call me; you know how to reach me._

_Stephen_

Damn. Stephen did this every six to eight months: he contacted me trying to get me to return to him. He tried every tactic he knew: wooing, cajoling, threatening and other things, but I never, ever had any desire to return to him. I tossed the note and the envelope into the recycling bin, and promptly forgot about it.

~~~~~

I met Q in Q-Branch just after I clocked out.

“Do you mind if we walk back to my place to pick up my car? I came to work with James this morning, and he took the car to get to the airport. I’d call a car to drive us, but it’s such a lovely day, I thought we might enjoy the weather while we can.”

It did sound lovely to be out and enjoying the spring air, and, knowing that it wouldn’t take us long, I eagerly agreed. We exited out the main entrance of the SIS building, Q holding my hand, then we headed back over the Vauxhall Bridge. We never noticed the car that drove away as we left.

~~~~~

Shopping with Q was really enjoyable. He teased me, rather suggestively, about my choices in fruit and vegetables. He was being ridiculous and ridiculously _hot_. I never knew so many sexual innuendos could be made about onions or lettuce, but somehow Q made them. Q had this extremely dry, sharp-witted humour that I very much connected with; I gave back as good as I got.

As we were leaving the grocery store, Q said, "Thanks Amanda. That was a lot of fun. Shopping is not quite as fun with James."

"Why not?"

"James is very serious about his food shopping, but he hates shopping for other necessities like tissues or cleaning supplies."

"Hey, I can make shopping a whole day event by simply browsing. The amount of interesting things out there in the world are endless."

We just happened to be walking by a chip stand, and the alluring smell of grease and fish made my stomach grumble.

"Hey," Q said. "Do you want fish and chips for dinner?"

"Let me guess: you have a thing for fish and chips?" I remembered he'd had fish and chips at pub.

"The greasier the better," he said, winking at me.

Q bought us both fish and chips, and we sat at a picnic table. We discovered that Q preferred the light, soft, and soggy chips, whereas I preferred the crispy, crunchy, overdone ones. At first, Q simply tossed the ones he didn't want onto the newsprint holding my dinner. Then I picked up a chip, and held it out to him, wordlessly daring him to eat it from my hand. He raised an eyebrow, locked his eyes on mine, then leaned forward and tilted his head slightly under the chip. He gently took the limp chip into his mouth, lightly teasing my fingers with his tongue before backing away, chewing.

"Your chips are better than mine. Can I have another?" he asked suggestively, his eyes wide and innocent, but the smile playing on his lips giving him away.

"Only if I can have one of yours," I replied back, trying to control the smile playing along my own mouth.

"Of course! That's only fair."

I picked up another chip, this one coated in ketchup. I smiled, he smiled back, and I lifted the chip to his mouth. This time, the chip was incidental; the chip went into his mouth, but so did my fingers. This time, he didn't tease, but let his tongue play along the tips of my fingers in his mouth. Letting him suck my fingers clean, I released the chip. He leaned back, thoughtful.

"My turn," he said and he lifted a chip to my lips. I looked at his eyes instead of the crispy bit, trying to let him know how much I trusted him. I opened my mouth, and leaned forward to meet the chip. Then I closed my mouth, both around the chip and Q's fingers.

He tasted of salt and tangy vinegar and sweet ketchup. I let my tongue investigate his fingers: the smoothness of a nail, the slight roughness of his fingerprints, and the hardness of a callus. I sucked his fingers in and he let them slide in, wiggling them slightly along my tongue as I increased the suction. My eyes had closed as I focused on the sensations in my mouth, but just then I opened them to see Q's pupils huge and luminous. I released the suction from his fingers, but before they had fully left my mouth, I nipped the tip of one gently with my teeth. A chip had never, ever tasted so good. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, I was no longer hungry for chips. Q's eyes never left mine, and after I had finished I said, “I’d like to get home now.”

Q peered at my partially eaten fish and chips. “What about the rest of your dinner?”

“Yeah, not really hungry for that anymore.”

“But for other things?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then, let’s get you home.”

~~~~~

I’m pretty sure Q broke multiple speed laws getting me back to my flat, but it seemed like all the police were looking the other way, so he didn’t get pulled over. He luckily found a parking spot right in front of my flat, and we raced up the stairs to my front door.

“Amanda…” he said, hesitantly.

“You’re coming in, right? I haven't been reading you wrong, have I?”

“God, no. It’s just, we haven’t really talked about this.”

“Let me get the groceries away, then we can talk.” I unlocked my door, and Q sat in a chair while I put my groceries away.

“So, what do you need to talk about? We might as well talk now,” I started.

“I said we’d talk before we did anything, and we haven’t,” he said.

“I thought that’d be in a scene, unless that’s what you were thinking about for right now?”

“No, no scene. I just worry…”

“About what?”

“Moving things too quickly for you.”

I just had to laugh. “Oh, Q. You’re just too sweet. We’re definitely not moving too fast for my liking. Unless…you’re not, um, up for it?”

“Not on your life! I’m absolutely ready…”

I put the last bit of food in the fridge, then moved over to Q. I gently put my hands on either sides of Q’s face and kissed him. “Then there’s no problems. Let me, Q…” I wrapped my hands around his and pulled him to his feet, then guided him to sit across the width of my bed, his back against the wall. God, he was beautiful: a light flush across his cheeks, his curls slightly mussed and his lips moist and pink from our kiss. I ran my fingers through his hair, then traced the flush across his cheek down to his soft lips. He playfully flicked his tongue out to try and lick my finger, but I simply moved my finger from his tongue’s reach and tutted to him.

“What?” he asked.

“I _want_ , Q. I want to touch you, and caress you, and learn about you, and please you. I want you to let me do this for you; I want you to enjoy without you getting distracted with pleasing me.”

“But, I _want_ as well…”

“Later. Please?”

He tilted his head, looking at me for a moment, then smiled and gave me one slow nod.

This was not the first time I’d undressed someone else, so I knew the pitfalls to avoid. Shoes off first, before anything. Having to stop and try and get shoes off after you’ve pulled slacks and pants down is not an easy feat. Then socks. I wasn’t sure about Q, but I knew for me, socks on during sex was not exactly romantic. I also undid the cuffs around his wrists; I always seemed to forget them and ended up trapping my partner in their shirt. Potential problems avoided, I could focus on the rest of Q.

I shimmied myself over him and straddled his legs. He was wearing a dark button down; the colour was a cross between navy and grey and it emphasized his pale skin. It looked like cotton, but had an almost silky hand and I dragged one finger down from Q’s collarbone to his hip. At the sound of a soft intake of breath, I realized that the touch was as sensual to him as it was to me. I lifted both hands, and with all my fingertips, I repeated the slide lightly down both sides of his chest and abdomen. Unexpectedly, Q arched up towards me, a light moan escaping involuntarily from him.

“Sensitive?” I asked.

“Only in the right situations,” he sighed. I had to grin at that, and it gave me courage to continue. Letting my palms rest over his pecs, I leaned my body into his, and brushed his lips with mine.

“Could this be considered one of those situations?”

  He hummed a positive answer, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and trapping my arms between us.

“You know, you’re preventing me from doing what I want,” I said as he leaned forward to nuzzle the curve between my neck and my shoulder. I shivered as, with the tip of his tongue, he licked my neck up to the base of my ear.

“I’m not stopping you,” he whispered as his lips brushed the shell of my ear. I groaned as he started suckling on the lobe.

“No, you’re not, but you are trying to distract me. Now, stop it.” He dragged his teeth along my ear lobe.

“You really want me to stop?” He blew gently into my ear, causing me to shiver yet again.

“Temporarily, that’s all I ask.”

He sighed, nodded, and let his arms relax so his hands were on my hips. Tiny little flutters of nervousness floated around the bottom of my abdomen and all sorts of worries floated through my head, but instead of focusing on them, I focused on the little dip at the bottom of Q’s throat; it was framed perfectly in the v made by the top of his shirt being left open. I stroked the dip lightly with one finger, then I leaned back and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. As I undid each button, more and more creamy skin covered with fine dark hair was exposed to me. After a few buttons, I just had to stop and touch. His skin was as creamy-soft as it looked, and for some strange reason, that surprised me. I lazily stroked from the end of one collarbone down his sternum, stopping at the top of a scar.

“The scar is from shrapnel from an accidental explosion in R&D.”

I undid more buttons; I saw the scar clearly. It was an arc, maybe eight inches long, starting over his left ribs and curving up to the centre of his chest.

“It looks worse than it actually was. That piece of metal could have gone between my ribs and done serious damage. Instead, I was lucky I just ended up with stitches.”

A placed a kiss in the middle of the scar. “You and James. You both give your bodies for Queen and country, don’t you?”

He huffed out a laugh. “James does. I only get injured when I’m being an idiot.”

I kissed his scar again. “Don’t put your sacrifices down, Q.” I finished unbuttoning his shirt, and I pulled the tails out of his trousers. Kissing him, I trailed my hands under his shirt around to his back, dragging my nails down. He moaned and arched into my breasts and abdomen; I moved my hands up to shoulder blades and pulled him tightly to me. He was so warm, heat flowing off him in waves. His lips tasted of fish and chips, and when he allowed my tongue entrance to his mouth, I tasted the comfort of coming home.

I felt the fluttering of his hands along my back, hesitant and tentative. I murmured to him that of course he was allowed to touch, and let myself drift into the sensations of warm man, warm _Q_ , touching so many parts of me: the gentle insistence of his tongue, the firmness of the muscles of his chest against my breasts, the warmth of his hands stroking my back. His erection was an obvious presence pressing into my pubic bone, and I rocked lightly back and forth on it. A moan grumbled from deep within him, and his eyes closed as he broke the kiss and he tilted his head back. I took the opportunity to kiss and suck on that gorgeous, long neck of his; he seemed to approve as he moaned again and let his head rest against the wall behind him. He tried to rock his hips up to grind against me, but I just shuffled lower on his thighs, preventing him from getting any stimulation.

His neck was rather sensitive; there wasn’t a spot where I licked and sucked that didn’t elicit some small noise of pleasure from him. When I dragged my teeth across the muscle of the top of his shoulder, he groaned and exposed his neck to me even more by leaning his head away from me. I bit the muscle lightly, and as he moaned, I slid his shirt off the ends of his shoulders, letting it crumple behind him, making sure his arms were free from the sleeves.

Seeing the long expanse of his torso exposed in front me was like a buffet where I didn’t know where to start. _Fuck it_ , I thought, _let’s get this show on the road_. His nipples were small and pebbled and I rubbed both with my thumbs, barely touching them. _Damn, he was sensitive_ , I thought as he moaned loudly; so much more sensitive than the grand majority of my other partners. I brushed his nipples again, and trailed my hands down his chest and abdomen, resting on the waistband of his trousers. One perky nipple was calling out to me, so I leaned over and just touched it with the tip of my tongue, flicking it lightly just once. His chest twitched then Q carefully rested one hand on my head, gently stroking my hair.

“Amanda, Amanda,” he sighed out softly. “Please, love.”

I licked his nipple, flicking my tongue back and forth over it as I undid the button and zip on his trousers. Gently patting a hip, Q arched himself up so I could pull his trousers down. I released Q’s nipple to get up and finish pulling his trousers off, and when I did, I took my own shirt, slacks and socks off. Q was slumped against the wall, eyes half closed in arousal, and, surprisingly, he had tucked his hands behind his back.

“I’m trying, love,” he whispered, noticing my look at where his hands were. “I said I’d let you do what you want, so I’m keeping my hands out of the way. Hope that’s okay?”

I smiled and nodded. I allowed myself the luxury of drinking in Q’s beauty: his long limbs, his slender build, and his flawless skin interrupted only by a couple of scars and moles. He was wearing dark pants which were tented out and had an obvious wet spot near the tip of his erection. I kneeled on the floor in front him, wrapped my arms around his hips and back, and slowly rested my face in his groin.

Damn. I took a deep breath in: he smelled of warmth, and musk and a hint of sweetness. Male. Deliciousness. For a moment I lost myself and just rubbed my cheek along his erection, inhaling the intoxicating smells of Q’s natural scent as I did. Q groaned, and the wet spot on his pants seemed to grow just a little larger. I tentatively mouthed the wet spot, tasting the unique tang of Q’s pre-come through the fabric: a little salty and a little sweet and all addictive. _God, I could live on that taste alone for the rest of my life_ , I thought and his scent intoxicated me further. I wanted more; I needed more. I pulled down Q’s pants; thankfully he didn’t need any instruction from me to lift his hips. I could hear how Q’s breathing had increased, and a few murmured “please”s had escaped from his lips. I glanced up to look at him and noticed him frowning just a little bit.

“Q? Are you okay?”

“I just…please let me touch your hair…I won’t press or push…just please let me touch…”

“Oh God, Q, of course you can touch. I wanted this to be good for you, not an exercise in restraint.”

“’S fine, love,” he said as he laid his hands lightly on my head.

My focus was now on his very lovely erection right in front of me. His scrotum was a touch darker than the rest of his skin and held two nice low-hanging balls. His penis was lean and long and suited him perfectly; it curved slightly to the right, and the glans was a rich plum colour, shiny from pre-come.

I touched my nose to his sac, nuzzling between his balls and inhaling Q’s rich scent. I tentatively licked one ball with the flat of my tongue; when that elicited a low groan, I licked the other the same way, then mouthed it gently. Q had slowly let his legs relax outward to allow me more access, so I pulled one of my hands around and I petted his thigh. Q sighed, and let his legs open even further.

Damn, the view in front of me was spectacular: curly, dark pubic hair that I just wanted to pet, balls moving gently in their sac, and a penis that was meant to be sucked, thankfully by me. I felt so Goddamned lucky; I’d never expect I would ever end up here between Q’s legs, all of him being presented to me on a silver platter.

“Problem, love?” Q asked quietly.

“Sorry, just got distracted by the view.”

Q chuckled lightly, and I blew lightly over his moist tip; that made Q stop chuckling, and made him groan softly instead. I gently stroked Q’s balls with my fingertips, feeling them shift and slide while I stuck out my tongue and simply placed it into the slit of his tip. I curled my tongue, stringing a small amount of pre-come into my mouth for me to savour. Getting it from the source was just that much better than through the fabric of his pants, and I needed more. I moistened my lips, and rested them just around the slit, gently sucking on the very tip of Q’s glans. Q sucked in deep breath and twirled a curl of my hair in his fingers. I released the light suction and allowed a tiny bit more of Q’s glans get sucked into my mouth. I released and sucked, released and sucked, each time letting a little bit more and more of the tip in until I let my mouth glide slowly over the ridge. Releasing the suction, I swirled my tongue around the glans, letting saliva drip from my mouth and down his shaft. Then, I took a deep breath in and swallowed down Q’s cock to the base, my nose resting in his musky curls.

Q let out a shout in exclamation. “Amanda!” I heard him yell. “Amanda! How the bloody hell…Jesus fucking Christ… Amanda!”

I smiled, knowing I had surprised him, and I hummed around his penis as if asking, “Yes, Q? Need something?”

I pulled up and and again took his whole cock down my mouth and throat. This time Q was more ready, and he simply groaned in response, his hips gently starting to pump.

“Bloody hell, Amanda. Bloody fucking hell…”

I curled my hand around the base of his penis; I could deep throat but not continuously during a blow job, so I only took the top third of his cock in my mouth while my hand stroked the rest. As I sucked and stroked, I listened to Q’s moans and murmurings. The scents, the sounds, the taste, all of it made my groin ache and my vagina wet with desire.

As much as it was arousing for me to give a blow job, I always wanted to keep my focus on my partner and their responses. Listening for that hissing intake of air that meant pain instead of pleasure was important to me so I could adjust suction or amount of teeth or increase the pace. I was thankful that Q was quite verbal: he moaned, groaned, sighed, and swore almost continuously, which was excellent feedback for me.

Q’s hips increased their pace, and sooner than I expected Q shouted, “Oh God, Amanda, stop…I’m…God…close…” He patted my head firmly in warning; I simply smiled, removed my hand from the base of his cock, and sucked Q right down. I sucked him hard until I heard an unintelligible shout and Q hips curled then arched and he orgasmed. Q released a flood into my mouth; his come thick and deeper in flavour than his pre-come, but no less delicious. As his orgasm slowed, I released the forceful suction and softly suckled him through the aftershocks and post-orgasm dribbling.

In the afterglow, Q had slumped over, and his body and head resting on the bed. I helped him get his legs up on the bed, and covered him up with my duvet. Maple, who had been resting on his cat perch, wandered over and curled up to Q’s tummy.

“Q? I just have to go the loo. I’ll be right back.”

His hand reached out to mine, and he pulled my hand to his lips to kiss it. “Don’t be long, hmm?”

I smiled and let his hand go. By the time I returned, Q was totally asleep; he was resting mostly on his front with one leg hitched up, an arm was tossed around the side of his face which was mashed into my pillow, and I heard soft, snuffling snores. Maple had snuggled right in to him.

I sighed, but not regretfully, and I let my arousal drift away. I might not know all that Q did on a regular basis, but I was more than aware that he spent too much time at Q-Branch. If he could have a rest in my bed before heading out to handle 007 during his mission, I was totally fine with that. I set an alarm on my phone for midnight in case I fell asleep so Q could get up and have a shower before heading out. I snuggled in to one of my chairs under a blanket, picked up a crochet project, and settled in for a relaxing evening of watching my lover get a well-deserved rest.

~~~~~

Quiet beeping from my phone woke me and Q up. I had fallen asleep in my chair, as I thought I would.

“Damn it, Amanda! Why did you let me sleep?” Q startled, and flung the duvet from him, desperately looking for his clothing.

“It’s fine, Q. Slow down, it’s okay. I set an alarm for 12:00; lots of time for you to have a shower and be back at Q-Branch for 01:00.”

“What? You let me sleep? On purpose?”

“Of course I did. I knew you wanted a nap before going back to work tonight. You drifted off, so I thought it was best to just let you sleep.”

“But we, I mean you…”

“A wise man told me that things don’t have to be tit-for-tat. I’m in this for the long haul; I’m sure there will be other times, right?”

“Oh fuck, yes,” he said, crawling out of bed. “You don’t mind me having a shower here?”

“God, of course not. There’s an extra towel hanging on the bar, and a toothbrush by the sink. I’ll have a tea ready for you when you get out.”

He cupped my head and gave me a quick, hard kiss. “You’re a love,” he said, and he headed for my bathroom, his glorious naked arse available for me to admire.

While Q was in the shower, I tossed on my shirt and brewed a cup of Earl Grey tea for him. I also made him a turkey sandwich; dinner was long ago and if he was going to be up all night handling James, then he could at least have something easy to eat while working. I put the sandwich and a banana near the travel mug full of tea, fluffed his clothing out and laid them on the bed. I grabbed my own tea and settled back in my chair. I was crocheting when I heard soft singing float out from the bathroom. Q’s voice was deep and surprisingly good.

“…She’s got a smiiiiiiile that heals me, I don’t knoooooow why it is, But I have to laugh when she reveals me…”

Oh. I was sure he was just singing the first song that popped into his head.

“She’s got a liiiiiiight around her, And ev’rywhere she goes, A million dreams of love surround heeeeeer ev’rywheeeeeeere.”

_Focusing on my crocheting now_ , I thought. I was counting my crochet stitches much more closely than normal; I needed to focus on something other than the sweet tones and lyrics coming from Q.

“She’s got a waaaaay about her, I don’t know what it is, But I know that I can’t live without her, anywaaaaaay.”

The shower shut off, and I focused back on my crocheting as best as I could knowing I was blushing. _No real reason to blush_ , I thought. _He just must really like Billy Joel. Hell, I’ve been known to sing ‘Only the Good Die Young’ in the shower_.

He came back to the living room in a towel, and, seeing his clothing laid out for him, said, “Jesus, you’re too fucking perfect, aren’t you?” and gave me a big, wet kiss. He let the towel drop to the floor, and he started getting dressed.

“You’re a wonderful singer,” I commented.

“Oh. You heard me? Sorry ‘bout that. Have you seen my socks?”

  I pulled his socks out his shoes and handed them to him. He sat on the bed, facing me while he put on his socks.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It was nice.”

He suddenly stopped getting dressed; only one sock on. He rushed over to me and kneeled in front of me. He put his face in my lap and his arms around my waist.

“You know, you _do_ have a way about you.”

“Well, I think you’re the only one who sees it. Maybe you’re just imagining things,” I joked.

“Not only me. James too. He _sees_ you too.”

I didn’t reply, I just petted Q’s damp curls for a moment while my stomach did tiny flips. He sighed then got up to finish dressing. I collected up his tea and lunch, and set it on the table between my chairs.

“You didn’t have to make me something to eat; I probably won’t eat anything ’til the morning anyway.”

“James commented you tend to not eat. I’m just making it easy for you.”

“I just know you two are going to tag team me to get me to eat more, right?” I hummed in acknowledgement, then he pulled me into his arms and gave me a soft kiss. “There are worse things in the world, I suppose. I hate to go, but I don’t want to be late for James; he can get kind of cranky if I’m not on time. Stop by Q-Branch before you start in the morning, okay?”

  I smiled, nodded, and kissed him back.

“Now, go on Q. Keep James safe and save the world without getting hurt, okay?”

  He smiled, and dashed from my flat.

~~~~~

I did stop by Q-Branch in the morning, but Q was tremendously distracted by whatever was happening on the massive screen in front of him, so I left with just a wave from him.

I received two more creamy, square envelopes that week, but I tossed them in the recycling bin without even opening them.

I didn’t hear anything from either Q or James until Friday morning. Q texted me that James would be landing at 15:00, and debriefing would take some time, but was I interested in coming over to the townhouse tonight and staying until Sunday? We could shop and cook over the weekend, and James apparently was interested in doing a scene tonight. I thought it strange that Q was asking about a scene for James, but I agreed nonetheless. I needed to pick up a few things at my flat first and leave food for Maple; Q offered to drive me to my flat to do what I needed to do, and James would meet us at the townhouse later.

I met Q at Q-Branch when I clocked out. Q was ready to go, but he looked drawn and distracted. We walked quietly to the car park, and after we got into his car, Q put his key in the ignition but didn’t turn it.

“Q?” I asked softly.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said.

“What isn’t?”  

“You. Coming over for the weekend.”

A sting of disappointment hit me. “That’s fine, Q. We stocked me up so well when we went shopping on Monday, I’ll be good until next weekend, or whenever is a better time.” I went to leave the Fiesta, when Q touched my hand, stopping me from getting out.

“No, don’t go. James really wants you with us this weekend. The reason why I don’t think it’s a good idea is because James’ mission didn’t go well. Usually, it takes a few days of him either brooding and drinking or running for hours to get his head back on straight when a mission goes to shit. I don’t think you seeing either for the whole weekend will be very much fun.”

“But you said he wanted to do a scene with me?”

  “Which you can absolutely refuse.”

“I don’t mind coming over and I can stay out of the way, or do some cooking, unless you don’t want me there.”

“You’re sure?”

“It doesn’t sound like the weekend will be a treat for either of you, so if I can help out, I don’t mind.”  

Q started up the car. “Thanks, Amanda. I do appreciate it, but if you want to go home, just let me know.”

~~~~~

When James came home, he dropped his overnight bag just inside the door, and collected Q into his arms. Q held onto James tight, pulling James’ head to the crook of his neck and just held him. They murmured together softly for a while; I stayed seated on the couch to give them time to reconnect. James then sighed, and Q let him go.

“You _know_ it’s not your fault, right James?” Q said.

“Jesus fucking Christ, don’t start. You saw what happened! You can’t tell me…”

“Yes, yes I can. We are not going to argue about this right now, though. Amanda came, although I did warn her about you.”

“Really? You _really_ fucking did that?”

“I did. It was only fair she knew what she was coming in to.”  

“And what is that? Hmm? That she was coming in to watch an alcoholic drink himself to death, or someone so manic they can’t keep still? Which one, Amanda? Which one did Q say to watch for? Is that why you’re here? To watch me self destruct?”

  While James had been yelling, I had slowly gotten up from the sofa and stood quietly near both Q and James. “No James, I’m here to say I’m happy you made it home. I’m looking forward to cooking with you this weekend, but if you’re not up for it, that’s okay. I’m just glad you’re back,” and I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Both Q and James looked at me, stunned, then James set his mouth into a stern line, picked up his bag and went upstairs.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” I asked Q, worried when James didn’t reply.

“No you didn’t, Amanda. What you said was just fine.”

~~~~~

James didn’t come downstairs for about an hour. When he did, he had a drink in his hand. He crossed the living room and sat in one of the soft chairs near the sofa where I was sitting.

“Hungry? ‘Cause I know I am.” I asked, and James just looked at me. “Q pulled out some gorgeous steaks earlier. How do you like yours done?”

“He likes his rare,” Q called through from the office behind the kitchen.

“And you?” I called back.

“Rare as well.”

James just took a gulp from his glass.

I got up and headed to the kitchen. I took the steaks out of the fridge, and got the grill on their stove heated up. I tossed the steaks on the grill, then I sautéed some mushrooms with garlic and a bit of wine I found in the fridge. When the steaks were close to done, I cleaned some asparagus and rubbed them with salt and pepper and a bit of oil. I took the steaks off the grill to let them rest, and tossed the asparagus on the grill to get a few char marks. When the asparagus was done, I put everything onto separate plates. I took one to Q, who took his to the kitchen table to eat. I took James’ and my plates through to the living room. I handed James his meal with a fork and knife, and I went to sit back on the sofa. James looked angry and confused.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“Why what?” I asked back, slicing an asparagus spear small enough to fit in my mouth.

“This,” he replied, lifting his plate up. “I was foul to you earlier.”

I shrugged. “I think you’re allowed to be foul. Q said your mission didn’t go so well, and no, he didn’t say what or how, but being _foul_ seems like a normal reaction. Besides, you’ve gone the whole week eating crappy food, am I right?’

He nodded.

“So, why don’t you get some good food into you, which should make you feel at least a bit better,” I said with a wink and a grin.

James just looked at his plate for a few moments, then back up to me. I hadn’t waited for James to start eating, so my mouth was full of steak and mushrooms. I just nudged my head, encouraging him to start. He sighed and started cutting up his steak. I was surprised; he actually made it through half his meal before he put the rest on the coffee table and picked back up his drink.

I finished up my meal, and took his leftovers and put them in the fridge. I loaded up the dishwasher, and got it started. Q was back in the office working on one of the computers there, and I went over to him and rested my hands on his shoulders.

“Dinner was excellent, Amanda. Thanks for cooking.” He rubbed one cheek on my hand softly.

“Anytime, Q. Are you going to come and sit in the living room with us?”

“No, I’d better not. You’re having better luck with him than I ever do the first night. Usually I can’t even get him to talk to me after our ‘welcome home’ hug. You got him to eat, right?”

  I hummed a positive answer.

“He and I will talk later; we both need time to decompress some first. You go back and sit with him, if you want. I’m just finishing up and closing the file on James’ mission, so I’m going to be a bit. Or you can sit with me, if you want?”

“No, I’ll head back to the living room with James. Join us when you can.”

He nodded and I returned back to the living room.

James was slouched down in his chair, staring off into the distance at nothing. The living room was dark, so I flicked on a low lamp and picked up a crochet project I had brought with me. I hadn’t been sure what the weekend would bring, so I brought a few projects with me just in case. I crocheted quietly, and every so often, James would take a sip from his drink. Neither of us said anything; I was just curious to see how James would react to me just being with him.

“Did Q talk to you?” James finally said.  

“About what?” 

“You and I doing a scene tonight.”

“He did.”

“And?”

I set my crochet project aside and turned to look at him. “Can you really tell me you’re up for a scene tonight?”

He took a big gulp of his drink, finishing it right off. “What? You don’t want a drunk Domming you? I haven’t even had that much.”

“The amount you’ve had to drink is neither here nor there, although I don’t like anyone Domming me who’s been drinking. You and I are starting to become friends, right?”

He nodded, carefully.

“You had also told me last week ‘no lies’, right?”

He nodded again.

“I want to trust you, totally and implicitly, James. However, if you lie to me, that strains my trust in you. Now, I’m going to ask you a question. I trust you will be telling me the truth, whatever your answer is. Are you ready?”

He nodded.

“Can you tell me that your head would be 100% focused on our scene if we were to do one tonight? Because there is no way I’m doing a scene with you, or Q, or any Dom, when their mind is not completely on me and the scene.”

I could see James thinking, hard. His lips twitched, and he moved his empty glass around in his hand. He finally shook his head no. His head dropped down; he looked defeated.

“James, look at me. I’m not saying ‘never’, I’m just saying ‘not tonight’. Trust me, I know how hard it is to hear those words. But now I want to ask you something.”

His eyes flicked up to mine.

“What did you want in our scene?”

“You said something about ‘service’…”

“Yes, I did. What do you want that would be considered service to a sub?”

“A bath.”

I sighed. “James, you can ask me that, for just that.”

“I thought it would be too strange for you out of the context of a scene. I mean, really, we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“Very true, and I do see your point. But I don’t think we’re going to be following some normal route of relationship building; I mean we've already done some non-traditional scenes. We’re way beyond this, don’t you think?”

He nodded and sighed.

I stood up, plucked the empty glass from his hand and set it on the table, and held my hand out to help him up from his chair. I led him up the stairs to the master bedroom, then I got him to sit on the side of a bed and told him to just relax a few minutes while I got his bath ready. After turning the faucet on and adding some bath oil to the tub, I returned to James, took his socks off, and found the laundry hamper in the closet. While I was taking off his shirt, I noticed how carefully he was moving. It was then I saw the massive amounts of cuts and bruising to his chest and right side; his entire flank was a dark purple, and slashes criss-crossed his chest.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said softly.

“Well, it looks like a fucking mess. Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

“I got checked out by Medical when I got in. Just mostly bad bruising, and maybe a bit of a cracked rib.”

“James! ‘A bit of a cracked rib’? What exactly does that mean? Is that kind of like being ‘a little bit pregnant’? And does Q know?” 

“Q knows. He saw it happen. But no, I just have a cracked rib; nothing serious and nothing to be done about it except resting for a bit.”

“Have you at least taken something for the pain?”

He gave me a look that he thought that was the most idiotic thing I could have ever said.

“So I assuming no?”

He pulled a pill bottle out of his trousers’ pocket, and tossed it on the bedside table. “Don’t need ‘em,” he finally replied.

“Right, because alcohol works so much better than an actual painkiller.”

He stared at me. “Depends on the pain.”

I rubbed my face in frustration. “James, I may not know what happened on this mission. Hell, I’ll probably never know what happened. And I’m not saying that you don’t deserve to drink to forget for a little while. Just, it would make your life just that tiny bit easier if you didn’t have physical pain with every breath.”

“Fine. Ask.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what he was thinking.

“Ask?”

“Yes. You ask me and I’ll take them.”

I doubted that James didn’t have some ulterior motive but I had no choice. “James, will you please take your painkillers? And will you take them routinely until you feel better?”

“Done.” He grabbed the pill bottle and swallowed two pills dry. “Happy?”

“Quite. Now, let me finish getting you undressed and into the tub…”

~~~~~

James let me direct him into the tub, and he closed his eyes and rested while I washed him. I tried to wash the dried blood that had dried in the creases of his skin, but some was just too stubborn so I left it. I washed the rest of him as gently as I could, being especially careful around his cuts and bruises. Leaving him to soak, I went to find pyjamas, or whatever he slept in.

“James, what do want me to grab for you to wear?”

I heard a muffled “nothing” from the bathroom, so I returned to the bathroom, and grabbed a few extra towels.

“Come on now. Out you get before you turn into a prune,” I told him. He got out, slowly, and I dried him off and put a couple of dry towels around his shoulders and hips. He looked so tired and drained, I guided him back to the bed. I pulled back the top sheets, removed the towels, settled him in, and tucked the blankets around him. I sat next to him on the bed, and stroked his hair for a little while.

“Amanda?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Being good. To Q and me. You know, he told me about Monday night and how you let him fall asleep at your flat. A lot of people would have been pissed that he didn’t reciprocate. And tonight. I treated you awfully, and you’re treating me better than I’d ever deserve.”

“You both have been good to me too, you know.”

“Not the same. Paying for your groceries won’t even make dent in the money Q and I have, even if we bought you groceries until you were a thousand.”

“You still don't have to do that, you know.”

“Even so. We won’t even notice the money going out. You, you’re being so good and nice to us. I don’t get it.”

“Well, I guess you don’t have to get it, James. Just enjoy and benefit from it, ‘kay?”

“Still don’t get it…” were the last words he said before he drifted off to sleep.

When I was sure he was asleep, I extracted myself from under his head and tiptoed downstairs to Q. He was stretched out on the couch and he had the telly on low.

“Well, he’s in bed, and sleeping, I think.”

Q sat upright. “You got him to bed and actually sleeping? What did you do? Hit him on the head with a mallet?”

“No, just let him soak in a tub for a bit, gave him a little wash, then tucked him in. That’s it.”

“Well, you must have magic in your hands or something; he’d never let me do that for him.”

I shrugged, then sat down and curled into Q’s side. “You know about his cracked rib, right?”

Q sighed and I felt him nod.

“Yes I do. How does he look?”

“Like he’s been through a meat grinder. He said Medical cleared him…”

“They probably quote-unquote cleared him. He most likely annoyed the shit out of them until they released him."

I hummed, and snuggled in a bit more. Q had the telly on, and a crime drama was on. We watched in silence for a while, when I got the feeling that Q wasn't really watching, but was lost in thought.

"I think I'm a bit confused. Is she the wife or the girlfriend?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's the umm, girlfriend I think? Or not? I think I've lost track," he replied.

"That's okay, I kind of figured that. Do you want to talk?"

Q let out a soft sigh. "I can't tell you about the mission; it's classified."

"I didn't ask for you to tell me about things you can't. I asked if you wanted to talk. You can talk about anything, really."

We sat with the telly playing low in the background, while Q held me.

"You know, James worries the hell out of me. I know I'm lucky to have had him in my life for as long as he has been; 00s don't have the greatest survival rates. I've acknowledged that he'll probably die in a dump somewhere and I've accepted that. It's how he is when he comes back from a mission that's gone to shit that worries me. No matter what I say, no matter how I explain, he always feels it's his fault for not having a successful mission. He feels like because he's there, in the situation, that he should be always able to assess things perfectly and always make the correct decisions on the fly. He can't know everything, but he feels he should.

"During this mission, James had to collect some information from a factory office. He discovered there were explosives set as a safeguard against that. Unfortunately, there was a night shift of workers there, as well as a security guard. He had two choices: acquire the documents and let innocent people die in the following explosion, or try and clear the area and forfeit the paperwork. He chose to try and clear the factory of people. He did, but got caught in the explosion; it's how he got injured. On the flight back, he was told that the security guard's family lived with him in the basement of the factory, and they died in the explosion. There were kids, Amanda."

"But how would James have known?"

"He couldn't have; even I didn't have intel about the full number of people in the factory."

"But he blames himself."

"He'll always blame himself, whether it's his fault or not. Just like I'll always blame myself for not having all the intel necessary."

"But you know it's not your fault either."

"I do, but it still keeps me up at night. At least, though, I'll talk to Eve, or sometimes with M, and it helps. James, well, he keeps it all in and drinks to forget or pounds the pavement to run from it. Eventually, he comes to terms with things, and he'll ask me for a scene. At least then, I have complete control over the situation, and James purges himself with the pain I give him."

"Oh. That's..."

"Yeah. I know. Not exactly healthy. But we end up reconnecting by the end. It works for us. Did James, uh, ask you for a scene?"

"He did."

"Did you turn him down?"

I told him about our conversation.

"You're too smart and good for us, I think."

"I doubt that, Q.”

I cuddled in close, letting the sound of the telly drone on. I heard Q’s breathing slow and even out. I couldn’t see, but I guessed he had fallen asleep. I stayed there just letting Q rest. I let my thoughts drift about the men I was involved with. I knew things might be challenging, but never quite like this.

~~~~~

When Q woke up, he gave me his apologies but he wanted to go to bed. I thought that would be a good thing too so I followed him upstairs where we wished each other a good night. Not long after I had settled into the spare bedroom, I heard James and Q arguing. I couldn't hear much, but I most certainly heard my name a few times. There was no way I was going to be the source of someone else’s argument, nor was I going to listen to it. This weekend was getting more and more stressful by the minute; perhaps I should have heeded Q and not come. I gathered up my things and headed downstairs. I’d sleep on the couch until morning, then ask Q to take me home.

I had just fallen asleep on the sofa when I heard Q calling out for me.

“I’m on the couch, Q”, I said, my head fuzzy and my mouth full of cotton.

“Are you okay? Why are you down here?”

“Heard you arguing; didn’t want to listen. Q, I want to go home. I don’t want to be the source of arguments between you both.”

“Oh, love, you’re not. God, I wish we had time to talk, and we will talk, but James and I have to go out on an extremely important time-sensitive mission right now. You can stay here or I’ll call you a cab.”

I got up, stretched, and started tossing some clothing on. “I’ll take a cab.”

Q thrust some bills into my hand then called for the taxi. James hadn’t come down by the time the taxi arrived, so Q gave me a big hug, reiterated that we’d all speak when they returned, and then told me that I could text them if I wanted. He gave me a soft kiss then I headed out.

~~~~~

On Sunday, I sent them a simple “thinking of you both” text, but neither replied.

Monday arrived and it started out piss poor. The janitors hadn’t been in my workspace to clean it over the weekend, so my garbage and recycling bins were overflowing. I sighed. I hated having a messy work place but I had a lot of projects to work on so I squished the rubbish down as much as I could, vowing to dump the bins at the first opportunity. The day was one of those weird days that went quickly and slowly all at the same time. I sent off another text, but again, received no reply. _Maybe they couldn’t_ , I hoped.

After I clocked out, I left MI6 and started to cross A3036 to head to the tube when a dark car with tinted windows stopped in front of me, blocking my way. A back door opened and I saw Stephen. There was no way I wanted anything to do with him, so I just ignored him. I started to walk around the car when he said, “You’re going to want to come with me, Mandy. If not, your little boyfriends won’t see another sunrise.”

My stomach dropped as he handed me an iPad with what looked to be a video running on it; it was actually a live video feed. I saw a rifle being focused out a window, then it looked like whoever was videotaping connected their iPad via USB to the sight. I could see what the shooter was seeing; my heart stopped. There were Q and James, talking in front of a hotel, directly in the sights. I handed the iPad back to Stephen and I got in the car. I had no choice. The car started moving.

“That’s a girl, Mandy. Now, you're going to phone them and call it off with them. I don’t share. You’re going to make it believable too, got it?

I swallowed and nodded. I called Q’s mobile and he picked up right away.

“Amanda? Why are you calling? You can’t….”

“I know Q, I just really needed to talk to you. I thought a lot about this last weekend and I don’t think I can be with you both right now.”

“Amanda! We need to talk about…”

“No, Q. There’s nothing to talk about. Now, let me talk to James.”

I heard Q say something to James, then the rustling of the mobile being handed over. My mind was whirling; how could I tell them that I was in trouble without Stephen knowing? A gleam of an idea clicked in my head; hopefully James would understand. Stephen didn’t know my safe words because I’d changed them after I left him.

“Amanda, I’m sorry! I know the weekend was difficult, but please…”

“No, James. Stop. You need to listen. I’m stopping this now.”  

“But…”

“No, James. Pay attention. We’re done. Make sure you pick up your gansey from my workspace when you come back; I don’t want it there.”

  “Gansey?”  

“Yes. It’s by my recycling bin in my office. I don’t want it there when I come back.” I prayed to every God in existence that James understood. The janitors wouldn't clear out my bins again until the weekend, and I hoped Stephen’s notes were still in there whenever they came back.

Stephen covered the mouthpiece of my mobile. “Now tell them you won’t be in for a while.”

“James, put Q back on.”

“Yes, Amanda? Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Q sounded strangely calm.

“Yes. I need a break from seeing you both. I’m going to take some vacation time so don’t expect me to be in for a while.”

“But your projects…”

  “Will have to wait.” I hoped Q knew my work ethic enough to know I’d never just run off with projects on the go.

“I see. That’s fine then, Amanda. I’m sorry this didn't work. We’ll never stop trying to get you back with us though.”

My throat closed. I hoped I was reading between the lines of what Q was saying: that he knew something was up and he and James would find out what.

“Don’t Q. I’m no good for either of you. Don’t try.”

“We will, Amanda. We will.”

Stephen forced the end of the call. He made a call on his mobile; I saw the rifle being dismantled and put away. The app went dark.

“So, Mandy. This is how this is going to work: you’re going to stay with me, voluntarily, as my sub and nothing happens to your friends. You try and contact them, I’ll kill them. You leave me, I’ll kill them. Got it?” He grabbed my mobile and tossed it out the window.  

I nodded and Stephen sighed and hit me hard in the face. “That’s not how a good sub answers, right?”

  “Yes, Master. I’ll stay and not contact them, Master.”  

“Better.”

Fuck. I was so fucked.

~~~~~

Stephen was rambling while the car drove on and on: he was telling me how much better things would be, how I wouldn't struggle with finances anymore, how he would take care of me better than anyone else, how long he waited for me to come back and how he knew all I needed was a little persuasion.

I stared out the window letting him rant. I was stunned and shocked; Stephen had never acted like this in the past. Sure, he had sent me letters and gifts but eventually he’d always lost interest. He’d never gone so far as to try and kidnap me; I could never have guessed he would ever do something like this.

We arrived at his house; what used to be our house. He brought me in through the back door, and without stopping shuttled me right down to the basement where he kept his dungeons. I started to panic; my situation was starting to sink in. I tried to kick him and pull from his grip but he just hit me in the face again and kept me moving.

He pushed me into what was he favourite dungeon: the one that had all his whips and paddles and had a specially made upright, solid wooden frame with shackles. Stephen threw me to concrete floor and said, “Now. Do you need retraining, or do you remember what a good sub does?”

I started shivering. “No Master. I remember.” I removed all my clothes and folded them carefully and placed them on a chair. I then kneeled in front of Stephen, my hands behind my back and my head down.

“That’s good,” he said. He ran his hand through my hair then suddenly gripped it tightly at the back of my head, forcing me to look up at him. “You should have come back sooner.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ll have to be punished.”

“No, Master! I’ll be good from now on! I’ll stay forever!” My shivers were increasing; Stephen’s punishments were the stuff of all my nightmares.

“Of course you will, love. But you still need to be punished.” He pulled me up to my feet and pushed me to the frame with the shackles. “Now, up you get. You know what to do.”

I faced the frame and stretched my arms and legs out, begging and pleading him to not do this, that I’d be perfect for him always, that I’d never leave. He locked the shackles around my wrists and ankles then pulled a collar from his pocket and belted it around my neck, locking it to the frame with a carabiner so I had limited head movement. My shivers were uncontrollable by this time. I had an idea of what was to come and I was scared to death, but I told myself I was doing this to keep Q and James safe. Q and James needed to stay safe, England needed them to be safe, and I could do this for them.

“Now, you’re going to thank me for each one, right Mandy?”

“Of course! But please don’t…”

“You know I have to.”

When I felt the first hit, I knew this was going to be _bad_. He was starting with a paddle that was really a cricket bat and he hit both my buttocks at the same time. What he was going to do was this: he preferred laying down a pattern of deep bruises with a paddle, then whipping my skin raw, so that afterwards, no matter how I moved or tried to get relief, I wouldn’t be able to for a very long time.

“Because you didn’t say ‘thank you’, that’s another five. Now, are you ready?” 

“Yes Master. Thank you Master.”

_Slam._

“Thank you, Master.” I was really and truly screwed.

~~~~~

Sometime in the middle of him whipping me, I passed out. When I awoke I was alone in the dungeon. Stephen had released me from my shackles and left me crumpled at the base of the frame. I tried to stand up but moving cracked open the crusts on the open wounds from Stephen’s whip and stung horrifically, and the deep bruises to my lower back and arse ached with every twitch. I crawled over to a low mat and found a blanket to cover myself up. I repeated to myself that I was doing this to keep Q and James safe. I hoped someone had thought of Maple. I passed out, worrying about the men in my life.

The next thing I heard was Stephen’s voice telling me to wake up. “Love, it’s time for your punishment to continue.”

God, _NO_.

“Now, come on love, up you get. It’s not that bad.”

Fuck _him_ , it’s not that bad.

“Please, Master; I’ve learned my lesson.”

  He shushed me. “Now, now, Mandy. Come on. The sooner we get it started, the sooner it’ll be over.” He pulled me up roughly. “Now, Mandy.”

Straightening up made everything pull and sting and burn and I almost passed out, but Stephen just shook me and pushed me to the frame. I lifted up my arms, tears involuntarily streaming from my eyes. James and Q; Q and James. Stephen locked me up again exactly as he had the last time.

“This will be just a bit worse so you don’t have to say anything. You know this will hurt me more than it will hurt you.”

The first sting of the whip broke open new skin over on my flank. The last session he had only whipped me on my arse and my lower back; I assumed he was now going to focus on unbroken skin.

With the next hit, my brain floated away. This was not the soft grey fluffiness of a good scene, this was the sensation of being disconnected from the situation but still being able to watch. The official term was “dissociation” and was a part of my complex PTSD but I simply called it “grace”: I could still sense the pain but it just didn’t have the intensity of emotion connected with it and it felt like it was happening at a distance. Unfortunately, there came a point when the pain would simply overwhelm my dissociative state then I just lost contact with reality. I knew I babbled, I cried and I begged, but I had no idea what I was saying. Eventually, the pain was so intense my brain just let go and I passed out.

I woke to stinging on my back; I was still shackled up. I hissed and heard a woman’s voice say, “It’s okay, Amanda. It’s okay. I’m just trying to clean you up a bit. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Who’re you?” I managed to mumble out. My mouth was dry; the last time I’d had anything to drink was at Q-Branch, whenever that was.

“Melissa. Remember? We met at The Devil’s Harp."

"Yes, I remember," I mumbled again. _I was just so dry..._

"Sorry, this is going to sting."

I moaned because although she was very careful, the pain seemed to go deep, right to my bones. She undid the carabiner on my collar and put a bottle of water to my lips. I tried to drink, but swallowing hurt so bad too...

"I'll get you out of here; I can't just right now."

My mind filled with images of what would happen to James and Q if Melissa took me away from Stephen. I just shook my head and screamed, "NO! I'm staying! I have to! They'll die if I don't!" I struggled and screamed until Melissa promised she wouldn't try and get me out until she knew "they"'d be safe.

"Can you tell me who they are? Who Stephen is threatening?"

"Q. James. Sniper on them."

"Did you say Q? Like the short form for Quartermaster?"

I nodded. "But you can't tell them! Stephen'll find out..."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure they're safe. I'm so sorry, but I have to hook your collar back up..."

She did so, and I said to her, "Go. Leave me."

She petted my hair lightly and replied, "I'm not going without you. You'll die here and you don't deserve that. Just hold on a bit longer."

I thought I said I'd try, but the world went dark.

~~~~~

My existence in the dungeon alternated between Stephen causing me pain, and the blissful relief of pain because I’d passed out. Back and forth my life swung; it seemed like the times of pain never ended, and the times I was blacked out were all too short. Stephen never released me again from the frame. I felt like the shackles had become permanent parts of my body.

I remember my shoulders being so sore, I wished they would tear from my body. I remember feeling so cold, I thought I was outdoors in an ice storm. I remember feeling so hot, I must have been lying in the baking sun. But most of all, I remember the pain in my back, not pain as much as burningfireachehurthurtscreaminghurt. I lost track of time and I kept repeating to myself, "This is for Q and James. This is for Q and James." It was my mantra; as long as I said it, they would be safe.

Somewhere through the mist of painheatburnache, I heard a voice I recognized. Not Stephen. I realized I actually hadn't heard Stephen's voice for, how long now?

".....here! She's in here! Bloody hell, Amanda, please, please...."

James. That sounded like James. No, James couldn't be here, Stephen would hurt him.

"Q! Help me get her down! Get the fucking medics here!”

Q couldn't be here either.

"No," I croaked out. "Have to stay. Keep James and Q safe. This is for Q and James."

"No, you are not staying here. We're getting you out of here."

"No! Stephen, sniper..."

I felt my body slump as I was released from the shackles and I screamed in agony with the change in position.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We're just getting you down. Where the fuck are the medics!"

I heard a firm, soft voice in my ear. "We've got you, love. You're safe."

Q. It was Q's voice. I could tell Q and he would take James. Q would understand.

"Q. Go. Take James. You be safe."

"No, Amanda. We're not going anywhere. You're coming with us."

"Don't understand." It was getting hard to speak, to breathe. "You. Take James. Go. Leave me. You'll be safe then."

"No sweetheart. You're safe now. We're taking you to Medical."

Why didn't they understand? "No! Sniper! Stephen!"

"Trust me, love. Stephen will be taken care of."

I heard a flurry of people around me and James' angry voice. The last thing I heard was Q, saying softly, "We got you back. We got you safe."

~~~~~

My throat was sore. And dry. I opened my eyes. I saw bars, and beyond that a table with a cup on it. Maybe, just maybe, I could reach out and get it...

“Hey there. Let me get that for you.” I saw a strong, tanned hand put a straw in the cup, grab it, and bring it over to me. I drew in a small sip; my throat was sore and raw and I coughed.

“Go slow, now. That tube was in your throat for a long time and the doctor said it’d hurt to swallow, but you do need to drink.”

  I followed the hand up the arm, then saw the body and face they were attached to. James. He looked like he had gone five rounds with a bear then run a marathon. His left arm was in a sling. But his eyes; his eyes were tired, but bright and shining.

“You. Look. Crap,” was all I managed to whisper out.

He laughed, full and deep. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Q?”

“He’s in Q-Branch working to keep himself from worrying himself to death about you.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, Amanda. You have nothing to be sorry about. He wanted to know when you woke up; he needs to see you. Let me just send him off a quick text.”

I took a deep breath. “Maple?”

James finished his text and sat down in a chair next to my bed. “He’s at our house. He loves racing up and down the stairs at all times of the day and night.”

I’d worried he’d been forgotten. I was so thankful that James and Q remembered.

“Thanks. For Maple.” I started crying.

“He’s fine, don’t you worry. Here, have another drink.” I lifted my head to take a sip, and moaned with the pain my back and arse were in.

“Bloody hell. Do you need something for pain? They said you’d be getting something routinely for pain for the next little while.”

I rested my head back down on the pillow and wiggled myself around a bit. The pain wasn’t so bad now that I wasn't stretching.

“No. Okay now.”

James reached out and touched my hand that way part way out the bedside rails. He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. It felt so good, and I was still so tired…

When I woke up again, my room was dark. I looked around a bit and saw Q sitting in a chair, his face illuminated by the screen of his laptop. I tried to speak his name, but I coughed instead. Q looked at me with concern; when he saw that my eyes were open, he smiled. He scooted his chair closer to me.

“Well, there you are,” he said. “Would you like a drink?”

  I nodded and he helped me with a glass of water. I was actually able to take a few mouthfuls in before my throat got too sore. Q put the glass down and rubbed one of my cheeks with his fingers.

“I thought we were going to lose you…” he said quietly.

“Still. Here.”

I took a deep breath in.

“You? James? Safe?”

“Oh, love. There’s nothing left for you to worry about. James and I are completely safe. Don’t worry; you need to focus on getting better.”

“But. Stephen. Snipers.”

“Taken care of.”

“But. I. Saw.”

“I know you saw assassins aiming at us. Trust me, you never have to worry about Stephen or his assassins ever again.”

I crooked an eyebrow up.

“Look, a lot has happened that you don’t know about. We’ll talk when you’re better but trust me when I say you never have to worry about Stephen ever again.”

I looked in his eyes, the whiteness of his laptop screen reflected in them. He looked calm and sure. I nodded, and my eyes drifted closed as he continued rubbing my face oh so very lightly.

~~~~~

For the next couple of days I still wasn’t able to stay awake for very long, but whenever I was I saw that either Q or James were at my bedside. When I was able to stay awake for a significant chunk of time, I’d found out that the wounds I’d received from Stephen whipping me had gotten badly infected and I’d ended up going septic. I was in the ICU for eight days while the doctors desperately tried to save me from a massive infection. I’d worried that I’d gotten so sick because of my previously poor diet, but the doctor informed me that it was more likely due to Stephen having pre-soaked his whips in _fucking fecal matter_ before beating me. When James heard that he had to leave my room. Part of me irrationally thought that James couldn’t bear to be in the same room with me: a hugely stupid person who got involved with such a crazy criminal. Q, however, soothed me by saying that James was just so furious with himself for not getting to me sooner. That, and he probably wished that Stephen was still alive so that he could kill him again.

That was how I found out that Stephen was dead. Q saw my stunned expression.

“Oh God. I, oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” Q looked horrified at himself.

Once I was able to speak, I said, “How? I mean, it probably doesn’t matter.”

Q spoke just one word. “James.”

Oh.

I started to cry.

“I know he was your ex, Amanda, no matter what happened. I’m sorry.”

I snuffled, and tried to talk to Q. “Not sad. Not for Stephen.” I cried some more, and took in a hitching breath. “James. Not good for him.”

“Oh, love. Don’t cry for James. He hasn’t lost a single second of sleep over killing him. As I said, I’m sure he wishes Stephen were still alive so his death would be much slower than a bullet to the head.”

My crying slowed. I took a few deep breaths in. “I need to know, Q. Please. I need to know what happened. How did you find me? Why did James kill Stephen instead of just arresting him?”

Q sighed. “James needs to be here too. You’re still healing, Amanda; there’s a couple of spots that aren’t closing like the doctor thought they should be. This is probably not what you should hear right now. It’s going to be a lot.”

“When can James get here? Now or later, I’m thinking this is going to be difficult for all of us. I’d rather know now.”  

Q sighed again. “Have a nap and I’ll text James. How about tonight after you eat? I’ll get James to bring in take-out for all of us. Anything you want.”

“Something easy with vegetables. Thai. Chinese. Indian.” I found it hard to be on my back or sitting up for any length of time, so food that had small bits was easiest for me to eat laying on my side. As well, any vegetables they served here in Medical were cooked beyond recognition.

“We’ll go with Thai. Now, go to sleep and I’ll wake you when James comes.”

~~~~~

Q was good as his word and he gently shook me awake while James was pulling take out boxes from a bag. We ate quietly, all of us knowing that the evening would be difficult. We finished dinner, Q cleaned up and sat back down.

“So,” James started. “Q told me you wanted to know what happened.”

I nodded.

“I still think we should wait,” Q said.

“Why? What does it matter when she finds out?” James replied.

“James, it’s not like Amanda’s at her best. She’s still in the hospital.”

“Well, she wants to know, and I think her knowing sooner rather than later is the best. She can start dealing with everything now.”

“Dealing with what?” I asked.

“Stephen. MI6’s history with Stephen. Are you sure you want to know?”

Stephen had a history with MI6? Of course I wanted to know. I nodded again.

James spoke. "STB Solutions has been on MI6 and MI5's radars for about seven years now." I had still been with Stephen then. “STB did some work for the British government. Some very astute government accountant noticed that after STB’s programs were installed, very tiny amounts of money were missing from all sorts of accounts. Normally, there would be no way anyone would have noticed except this one particular accountant had been been working on his PhD and found a very suspicious pattern to the missing money. There wasn’t any absolutely positive proof, so MI5 was keeping an eye on Stephen with the government’s approval. How much do you actually understand about STB and what they do?”

  “As far as I know, Stephen started STB to create individualized programs for large companies. He realized that Apple products were starting to become bigger in business, so he coded the programs to work on either PCs or Macs without the need for a separate program for each. This was big deal in the business community and when he launched his new programs, his company really took off. Apart from that, I don’t really understand the coding or anything.”

Q hummed. “Truly, Stephen was a genius in coding. I’ve looked at his programs and they certainly are works of art.”

“Well, as talented as Stephen was, he was even more greedy,” James continued. “When he installed his new programs, there was code hidden within them to skim barely noticeable amounts from all different areas in each business and shunt them to STB’s accounts. These amounts were really just pence, but with the amount of companies he had programs in, the amounts stacked up to quite a significant amount. MI5 had all sorts of programmers try and nail down the actual code but it shifted and morphed so quickly, no one was able to definitively find it. Even Q tried when MI5 asked him to look at it but it would have taken longer than he had time for to actually do it.”

“I would have done it, had M given me that sabbatical I asked for,” Q pouted lightly.

James simply hummed in response. “I know you would have, love, but MI6 needed you more. MI6 did get more involved when STB Solutions started contracting coding work and product production overseas. In the last six months, MI6 was getting closer and closer at finding absolute proof of STB’s thieving. There also seemed to be some upper management shuffling at STB that made us concerned that Stephen was having internal issues. We think Stephen finally caught on to us about two months ago.”

“But that would have been right around when…” I said.

“Yes. When we started contracting our arrangement,” James replied.

I felt horrified. “Did you both, I mean, is this some kind of setup? Do you think I had something to do with this? Were you trying to use me to get to Stephen?” Oh God, what if that were true?

Q looked equally shocked. “God, no. You and us; this all was just a huge coincidence. I mean, I knew you were Stephen’s ex and I thought James knew as well, but it wasn’t until James came home in a state about your finances that I realized he didn’t know.”

I thought for a few moments. “James didn’t recognize Stephen when we met him at the bar. You gave me the impression you didn’t know Stephen was my ex. But MI6 has known all about of us for years! What’s this all about?” I was starting to get angry. Did they still play me?

“The reason I didn’t know what Stephen looked like is because we don’t have any good, clear pictures of him. He must have known some people with a lot of pull. Things like old passport photos had been purged from his file. Stephen himself was reclusive; he didn’t do interviews or let anyone take pictures of him. When he travelled around London, he was able to always avoid the CCTV by using darkened windows in his cars and only parking in underground lots. I didn’t know what he looked like because I had no way of knowing,” James explained.

“As for you,” Q continued. “We knew that Stephen was married, of course. But again, he kept you very isolated from the public. We had a couple of pictures of you but no real information from after your immigration. We were aware, however, that you weren’t involved in STB’s business practices; your name never came up, ever. We assumed you were just as reclusive as Stephen; we absolutely didn’t know you were being abused or that you both were in the scene. As James said: he must have known a lot of people with authority to be able to pull all that off.”

My anger fizzled out. What they said made sense, but I’d have to think more about it later. “But Q, why? Why are you going out with me, knowing I had been with Stephen?”

  “You’re _not_ Stephen. You’d more than proven your trustworthiness over all the time you worked under me. Don’t get me wrong, when I took over Q-Branch, I looked at all of my subordinates’ computer usage, work times, and all sorts of things, and you never, ever made me feel you were working with Stephen or against MI6’s best interests.”

Oh.

James continued. “We discovered that Stephen had noticed MI5 and MI6’s involvement in investigating him by him being rather impulsive. He had put out contracts on the heads of MI5 and MI6, as well as the agents involved in the investigation against STB. 006 just happened to answer the contract; that was when Q had to work with him when we were at The Devil’s Harp. Stupid 006 nearly blew the whole operation and Q had to do some fancy handling to get things back on track and keep 006’s cover. Q had to pull 006 from the mission and I took his place. I know you know the basics of the factory mission, am I right?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s when we knew we were getting really close: no one boobytraps a third world factory office. MI6 was able to pick the trail back up but we had to move quickly; that’s why Q and I had to leave so fast on Friday night. We were just discussing the best way to get to where we needed to go when you called.” James rubbed his face. “Fuck, you had us so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Q grabbed my hand. “There is _nothing_ for you to be sorry for. Ever. Do you hear me?”

“You’d be a good field agent, I think,” James said. “You were able to pass on your message clearly and still not have Stephen think you had. Granted, you saying ‘gansey’ had both Q and I cued up, and with you telling us about your recycling bin was a huge help. Unfortunately, Q and I had no way to get back to you. We contacted Eve and she was able to go through your rubbish bins and find the notes from Stephen. M refused to let us abandon the mission to help you as you were an ‘unnecessary complication’, so we got the information we needed as fast as we were able, then Q did some fancy computer work and got us a flight out as soon as we could. Still, it took us 48 hours after you called us to get back. Why didn’t you tell us he was threatening you?”

“He wasn’t,” I replied, confused. “He just wanted me to call him.”

“But Eve told us he was threatening in his notes.”  

“I only read the first one; he just wanted me to contact him. I didn't open the others. I just threw them out.”

“Ah. That makes more sense. We couldn’t understand why you hadn’t said anything to us when he wrote all those awful things to you,” James said. 

“Maybe if I had read them, we wouldn't be in this situation…”  

“Don’t doubt yourself, love. You did exactly as you should have: you ignored him.”

“But…”

“No buts.” James sighed. “We were so frantic to get to you. I went to see if you were at your flat, and when I saw that Maple’s bowl was empty I knew you hadn't been back. Q had been trying to find you and only traced your phone to the edge of a road north of MI6. Stephen had so many properties; we had no idea where he might have taken you. It took time, but Q ended up scanning the CCTV recordings of the time you called us and he was able to trace the car you got into until it was out of London. From there, he was able to narrow things down to two properties. He sent a team headed by 006 to his one flat and Q and I went to his main property. Unfortunately, we had to get appropriate clearances to search his properties; even with all the information we had proving he was corrupt, it still took too bloody long. We had to wait until we got the all clear to go ahead and I wanted to get in there and get you out so bloody bad that Q had to hold me back. We tried, I swear to God, we tried.”

I let go of Q’s hand, and patted James’.

“We looked for you first; Melissa told us where you were. We hadn’t known, but Melissa was an undercover MI5 agent. She had been trying to get in touch with Q through her contacts.” James stopped and rubbed his face. “God, Amanda. When I saw you, I thought…I mean, I’ve seen some awful things, but you, up there. Damn, I thought…” 

“But she wasn’t, love. She’s here, still here with us,” Q said to James softly, rubbing his leg in comfort.

“After we saw you being driven off by Medical, Q and I started searching for Stephen. We found him in an office. We were doing a sweep, and the room was dark. Stephen winged me; I ended up needing a pin in my humerus because of a fucking lucky shot from him. I’ve got a bit of nerve damage and I’ll need physiotherapy for a while, but I should be back in the field in a couple of months. I wish I could say Stephen went down in a hail of gunfire; it’s what he deserved. I was simply able to see his head as he was lit from behind by light coming in through a window, and I took the shot. I’m…sorry Amanda. I killed him.”

“Never be sorry for that, James. You’re starting to sound like me: sorry for things you shouldn’t be.”

James gave me a bitter smile. “And then, you. In the ICU. I wanted to kill him all over again.”

“Trust me,” I said. “I’d kill him, if I could. James, Q, thank you for getting me out. I’m sorry you got hurt, James.”

“Anytime,” James replied. “But I certainly hope there won’t be another time like this.”

“Me neither.”

“James,” Q said, “Amanda needs her sleep. We should probably go; you need a shower and to sleep in your own bed for tonight.”

James looked at me, concerned. I smiled, and said, “James, have you been here all this time?”  

“Not all the time,” he replied.

Q just rolled his eyes. “No, not all the time, but enough to be in the nurses’ way too much.”

“Go. Sleep in your own bed with Q. I’m sure he’d rather appreciate it and I’ll be fine.”

James relaxed and nodded and Q shuffled him out the door.

~~~~~

The nightmares came that evening. I had been feeling fine prior to that; sure, the memories of me with Stephen would make me shudder, but they weren’t flashbacks. I’d hoped since I was already on medication I’d be fine but my hopes were for naught. The nightmares were terrible and horrifying. Q and James were always there being tortured or killed by Stephen, then he’d continue torturing me. When I woke from them, I was inconsolable; the nurses had to get James and Q to come back to Medical to help calm me down and reassure me they were fine. They wanted to stay, even once I felt better, but I told them to go back home and try and get more sleep.

The next day, I was moved to a larger room with two beds in it. I had to stay in Medical until my temperature was normal for 24 hours and I was still spiking a fever at night. The private room had been really nice, especially during the times when the nurses had to change my dressings on my back. I wasn't exactly happy I was getting moved to a semi-private and I’m sure my roommate wouldn’t be happy if I started having nightmares routinely.

When James came in later in the morning, he was carrying a small travel bag which he put in the wardrobe.

“James? What did you bring? I wanted to wear hospital clothing until my wounds stop draining so much, so I hope you didn’t bring me clothing to wear.”

“Nope,” he replied, plopping down in a chair and pulling out his phone. “I’ll be staying here with you until you’re ready to leave Medical.”

“What! No way, James. You need to be resting your arm at home; you also need to spend time with Q out of MI6.”

“Staying at home is boring. I’d much rather be here: I can visit Q whenever I like, and I can stay with you when you need me.”

“I still don’t think you need to be here. My therapist will be coming in everyday and my psychiatrist will be keeping close tabs on me too.”

James simply sat in a chair, shrugged, and started reading a book.

“I want to be here. My guess is that things will get worse before they get better and since I’ll already be here, you’ll be able to get the support you need sooner.”

I opened then closed my mouth. As much as I didn’t want to agree, the thought of James being close by soothed me.

~~~~~

I had a nap in the morning and by the afternoon I was getting restless.

“You okay?” James asked.

“Just sick and tired of being in Medical.”

“How long do you think you could tolerate sitting up?”

  “Maybe an hour if I’ve had something for pain?”

“Okay then,” he said and got up and left. He returned with a little cup of pills and a wheelchair. “Take these and when they’ve kicked in, I’ll break you out. We’ll go see Q.”

I looked down at my hospital gown.

“Don’t worry. I’ll cover you with a blanket and no one will see anything.”

“But your arm…”

“I’ll push you with my good one and guide with my pinned one. No problem.”

I swallowed down the pills and waited for them to kick in. Once I started feeling relief, James helped me get into the wheelchair. As he pushed me past the nursing station, one of the nurses gave me a wink and wave and told me it was a good thing to get out for a while, but to not overdo it. I waved back and James and I left Medical.

James took a back route to Q-Branch so we didn’t pass a lot of people, but I did get one or two strange looks. We finally got to Q-Branch and James stopped in front of the sliding glass doors. I could see everyone was bustling around as usual but Q was nowhere to be seen; he wasn’t in front of the huge screen, so I assumed he was in his office.

“Ready?” James asked.

  “Born ready,” I smiled back. James scanned his hand print into the reader by the door, the doors slid open and James pushed me in. The normal murmuring and rustling that I associated with Q-Branch slowed, then stopped. I wondered what was wrong; I looked a Q’s huge screen but it was still dark. Then the clapping started and increased and swelled. I looked to James who simply looked back at me and smiled.

“They know what happened,” he said.

“I got kidnapped, that’s all,” I replied back, frowning.

James just smirked. “You know you did more than that. And your co-workers know it too.”

The clapping slowly died off and R came over to us. I hadn’t had much to do with her; she seemed to be involved more in the coding and handling-of-00s side of things.

“Hi Amanda. It’s good to see you here. You know, everyone here a Q-Branch is thankful you’re alive and so proud of you. We’re all sorry what happened. God, no one wanted you to end up the hospital. But, well, thanks. For saving Q’s and James’ lives.” She smiled at me.

I mumbled a quiet “well it was nothing”, and she said, “You and I both know it wasn’t nothing. Get better soon, okay?” and she toddled off.

Q had been leaning on the wall, his arm crossed, but as soon as R left, he came over. He kissed me and then said, “They let you out for a while?”

“James broke me out.”

“I thought maybe you and I can get her outside for a bit. Her room is so stuffy, you know.” James looked at me questioningly but I relaxed and nodded. Getting fresh air sounded lovely.

We exited MI6, then James pushed me under some shade. I just took a deep breath in of fresh air and the smell of the Thames. _At least it was fresh air_ , I thought. James and Q sat down to a bench next to me.

“Amanda, there’s a couple things we wanted to talk to you about.”

Okay…

“First, we want, I mean, we’d like it if you came and stayed with for a little while after you get out of Medical,” Q said.

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll be fine at my flat.”

“All the stairs, and you having to take care of Maple; it’s going to take a lot out of you. Maple is already feeling at home at our place, and we can set something up on the main floor so you don’t have to go up and down the stairs too much.”

I thought for a moment. “I still think I’ll be fine at my flat.”

“Then I’m pulling out the big guns. Please, Amanda. Come stay with us. James and I will feel more comfortable if we know you’re safe.”

“But Stephen is dead. And you took care of his assassins, right?”

James nodded. “They’re all dead. But we’re still finding more and more pies that Stephen had his fingers in. Do you know Denise who works at STB?”

  I nodded.  Denise had been Stephen’s PA for a long time then had shifted into some managerial position.

“She knew something was going on at STB and had been collecting her own information from inside the company. She’s given us all she knows and things go deeper than we could have ever imagined. We’re just, concerned, for your wellbeing.”

“Do you really think someone’s going to come after me? I’m just Stephen’s skint ex. No one is going to be looking for me.”

“They will if they think you knew anything. And since you were still with Stephen when he started going corrupt…”

Ah. Stephen was still causing trouble from beyond the grave.

“So, how long would I stay at your place? Until things are done?”

“Probably six or so months. Unless you decide to stay longer.” Q smiled softly.

“Fine. I’ll stay at your place for my safety. But I will help out, right? And you’ll keep me updated with your progress.”

James simply said, “We’ll see about you helping out and of course we’ll keep you updated. Now, there was one more thing we wanted to talk to you about, but before we do, how are you feeling?”  

“I’m a little uncomfortable, but not bad.”

“Then we’ll say this as quickly as possible. First: I’m so sorry, Amanda.”

“For what?”

“Before Q and I went for that last part of Stephen’s mission, I was horrid to you.”

“Q had already explained. It’s fine.”

“No, no it’s not. I shouldn’t say those things to people who care about me. I’ll try to do better, but I know I’m not perfect. Next: that argument you heard…”

“I heard my name a lot. I assumed I was getting in the middle to something between you both.”

“You were and you weren’t,” Q broke in. “I’ve gotten so used to James’ moods post-mission that I’ve forgotten to try. When we first were together, and even now, it’s so hard to separate work from home. James pulls back, and I push to help him, and he gets resentful, and I feel hurt.”

“But I just kind of forced my own way too.” I said.

James replied, “But the difference is you let me have a choice: I could choose to eat dinner or not, I could ask to have a bath or not. It’s why I asked you you to ask me to take my pills: I wanted a choice instead of everyone trying to force them down my throat.”

“So James and I were arguing about you, how you were able to get him to do things I never could. James and I were both getting frustrated but eventually we ended up realizing how we both wanted the best for each other but we weren’t going about it the right way. Just as we came to that conclusion, we got the texts to our mobiles about our mission.”

“What you did was good, both for me ‘post-shit-mission’, and for Q’s and my relationship. You fixed something in one night that Q and I have had issues with for our whole time together. And then on top of all that, you were going to sacrifice _your life_ for us. How can we every thank you enough?”

I looked down to my hands. James and Q made me sound like some kind of saint and I surely wasn't that.

“I didn’t do anything special. I just did what I thought I had to do, what I thought was right. Can I go back now? I’m getting kind of sore.”

“Sure, love. I’ll push you back,” said Q.

Q and James talked on the way back to Medical but I let them chat while lost in my own thoughts. I felt uncomfortable with them thanking _me_ ; I truly thought that I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done given the same choices. When we arrived back at my room, Q helped me back to bed and gave his regrets that he had to go back to work. He kissed both me and James and left us.

James settled back into a chair and picked up his paperback. I lay in bed, just staring out the window at nothing. Today should have made me feel good, made me feel glad, but I just felt like a fraud. Everyone seemed to think I had done some magical things when all I did was just do what I thought was right.

“I can hear you thinking from over here. Do you want to talk?” I heard James comment.

I managed to roll over and look at him. I knew my thoughts were irrational; they were totally connected to my poor self-esteem, but I didn’t know how to express that. James pulled his chair closer to my bed.

“Maybe I’ll talk for a bit then. You know, when I came back from the factory mission, all I wanted to do was drink myself half-dead. I’m sure you’ve talked to Q, and how I always think that when a mission goes to shit, it’s my fault?”

I nodded.

“On the other side, the high I get when a mission goes well is incredible. I feel on top of the world; like I could take on the world and win. From what I’ve heard from you I gather you don’t feel the same way?”

“I don’t go on missions…”

“You’re smarter than that; you know what I mean. When things go well for you, you think you don’t deserve to be recognized for that, right?” 

My eyes started to well with tears.

“But what I did is nothing compared to what you and Q do every single day for MI6.”

“Oh, Amanda, how can you believe that? You were going to give up _your life_ for us. Even Melissa told us how you told her to leave you. Do you not see?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “I didn’t do anything. I just got kidnapped and let Stephen beat me half to death.” 

“You _did_ do things. You chose to do things that are brave and incredible. Please,” he grabbed my hand, “I bet it’s hard for you to hear, but I need you to really _hear_. Q and I are incredibly proud and amazed with you.”

“But…”

James put his fingers lightly over my mouth. “No. No buts. Please, just agree when I compliment you, okay? Can you try that?”

I shook my head no.

“Please? This is so important.”

I looked at his eyes and saw raw pain there. I never wanted to cause him pain, so I nodded.

“Okay then. Amanda, you are amazing and brave. Can you nod for me that you agree, please?”  

I sighed and gave one little nod. James smiled and the pain in his eyes drifted away. “You are _incredible_. You don’t have to say anything.”

~~~~~

Over the next few days, I got up more and more. I walked a bit further, sat up more, and did more for myself. One night, the nurses and I got a surprise: when they removed my dressing covering the wound that wasn’t healing well, a tiny piece of metal was embedded in the gauze. The nurse said that the sliver probably had been in the wound all the time but had only finally worked its way to the surface. After that, the wound started healing up more quickly.

Everyday, James would compliment me and asked that just once a day I agree with him. I would, but never on a compliment about my appearance.

“But you _do_ have gorgeous eyes. Green and changeable. They're lovely.”

“Well,” I replied, “I’m rolling those green eyes at you.”

“I’ll get you to agree with me one day,” he joked back.

It was ten days after I had gotten out of the ICU, and the day prior I hadn’t spiked a fever at all. James and I were hoping the doctor would release me that day. Thankfully, the doctor agreed to let me go on the condition that if I got a fever again, or my wound got worse, to come back to Medical straight away. James assured him I would and then he texted Q the good news. Q texted back that he was taking the rest of the day off; we could all get out of MI6 together.

When we got back to James’ and Q’s home, Maple came running over to me and started rubbing me all over. I was so glad to see him I’m not ashamed to say I cried one or two tears.

James took my bag upstairs, and I relaxed on the sofa. Q came over and gently took me in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered softly in my ear. I just smiled and hugged him back. Q had explained to me that I would be on medical leave for at least a month, and then I would only return to work if I cleared Medical and Psych. I wasn’t expecting a problem doing that; after the first night at the hospital James’ presence was a big help. I only had a few nightmares, and if I started having flashbacks he was able to calm me down quite quickly. I was looking forward to being out of the hospital and out in the real world; I was actually quite looking forward to cooking with James.

“So,” James said when he returned to the living room, “what’s on the agenda today? Q is playing hooky so we’d better make it good.”

“Honestly, I’d really like to go out to the market. I want to cook while I’m here.”

Q looked at me. “We were thinking more of ‘movie marathon then a nap then delivery’. We don’t want you to overdo it the first day.”

“Okay, okay,” I replied. “You’re probably right. Movies and delivery it is.”

Little did I know how that evening would start a pattern for my recovery that would end up with me very, very frustrated.

~~~~~

I quickly got into a routine at James’ and Q’s. Q got up, and James too if he were going in to MI6 for a while, and I got coffee going and made lunches. If James was staying home then he took care of himself and I just made sure Q had what he needed. James cooked in the evening and generally we stayed in.

It didn’t take long for me to get bored. They had a maid come in, so I didn’t have to do any housework except the odd dish. I crocheted and knitted until my wrists got sore and there was only so much telly I could watch before I’d turn it off in disgust. My tolerance for bad telly had obviously decreased while I didn’t have a telly to watch.

Q and James tried their best to help me, in their own ways. I had the occasional scene with Q where he lightly tied my wrists, but did nothing beyond that. James was surprisingly hands-off; he’d give me a peck on the cheek or hug me once in a while but mostly James wanted me to go and rest all the time. I’d tried, subtly, to show them I was ready for more: I’d jump up and put the dishes in the dishwasher, I’d curl up to Q on the sofa, or I’d touch James lightly whenever I had the chance. However, either I was too subtle or they weren’t reading me correctly and in the end, nothing was happening. Q and James were tiptoeing around me and I was getting more and more frustrated with them. They were treating me like I was fragile, that I’d break if they said the wrong thing or touched me the wrong way.

Things came to a head for me one evening. James had, yet again, refused my help with making dinner and just encouraged me to ‘go rest and watch some telly’. The way he said it hit me totally the wrong way. I was quietly fuming by the time dinner was ready, and I knew I was being childish but I started slamming my cutlery around at the dinner table. Q asked me quietly if something was wrong, and I just huffed out an “I’m fine” to him. When I tossed my dishes in the sink, causing a glass to break, James had had enough.

“Amanda, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he said.

“I want a fucking scene!” I yelled out, surprising Q, James and most of all, myself.

“Amanda, please come over here and sit down.”

I slumped back down into my chair.

“Now,” James started.

“Can you please tell us what the fuck is wrong? You’re banging shit around like a child.”

“That’s because you’re treating me like one!”

“No, we’re not,” Q said quietly.

“Fine. Not a child. Made of glass, like I’ll crack if you look at me the wrong way.” I sighed. “I’m just bored and you both are trying to be _nice_ and I feel like you don’t want to bother me when all I want is you to bother me…”

“We don’t want to push you, that’s all,” said James.

“Look. My back is healed, even that spot that took so long to close up. Sure, I’m itchy and achy at times but each day is better. I just want to be useful.”

“Is that why you want a scene? To be useful?”

  “I don’t know. That just…popped out. Sorry. I’ve been such a git tonight, but I'm so frustrated.”

“It’s fine, Amanda.” James said. “Now, do you feel serious about doing a scene?”

  I thought a moment. “Actually, yes. Something with service.”

“Me or James?” Q asked.

  I looked at both men. “James, if that’s okay with you both.”

“It’s fine with me. James? Are you up for it with your arm?”

“As long as we don’t do anything too physical, I’ll be fine. So Amanda, yes, I’d like to do a scene with you tonight. But next time, talk to us first, okay? We’re not mind readers.”

“I’m sorry, Q, James.”

Q just patted my arm. “It’s fine, just I agree with James.”

He got up and went to the living room.

~~~~~

“Come on then. We’re going to the play house.” James led me through the office door and we went over to the area with the wing back chairs. He sat down, but he didn’t offer for me to sit, so I just stayed standing.

“Now, Amanda. I want to clear up a few things before we start. You banging shit around because you’re upset with us is not acceptable, got it?”

I sighed. “Yes, James. I really am sorry. I’ll replace the broken glass.”

“The glass doesn’t matter. You do. And Q does. And I do. All the other things are just that: things.”

“I understand, James. Again I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized, and it’s forgiven and forgotten. Now, I need for you to answer a few questions about yourself, honestly, before we start. First: you had said ‘service’ was a yes but ‘slavery’ was a hard limit. Can you explain to me what you feel the difference is?”

  “For me, service is doing personal things for my Dom. I'm taking care of them: bathing them, getting them items they want, cooking for them. It can even be letting the Dom use me in a way that’s pleasurable for both of us. Taking care of my Dom makes me feel content, and yes, useful. Slavery, on the other hand, is when the Dom wants to use me to get out of doing distasteful tasks, like washing the windows or cleaning the toilet, or the Dom using me as furniture. I get very resentful if a Dom asks me to do that sort of thing; I feel like I’m being taken advantage of.”

“Even if those things would make your Dom happy? Like he enjoys the view while you are doing those tasks?” James asked.

“Well, then, my Dom and I would have to talk very carefully about that and even then, I’m not too sure.”

“Thank you for being so honest. I think I understand but we’ll talk more at a later date. Q will also want to know what you’ve told me.”

“Of course.”

“Now, the second thing I want to ask is how you are feeling, both physically and mentally. Which is more comfortable: sitting or standing?”

“Standing.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you wish it.”

Shit. That was a reflexive answer.

“Really? That sounds like something another Dom wanted you to say and not your true answer. Want to try again?”

“Sorry, James. I can stand for about an hour, maybe and hour and fifteen, then my back muscles start to ache.”  

“Better. That’s the kind of answer I want when I ask you a question. Now, mentally? I know Stephen was the last person to have control over you. He tortured you. How do you think you will be able to deal with me ordering you around for my own pleasure?”

“With Stephen, he didn’t order; he just did and took without saying anything at all. What I want you to do is totally different than what Stephen did to me.”

James nodded. “What are your safe words?”

  “Green, steek, and gansey.”

“Now, if at anytime I don’t think you are in a position to safe word out, I’ll stop the scene. Tonight is only about service but if anything feels wrong to you, or you are getting triggered, use your safe words.”

“Yes, James.”

“I am going to be very specific; I won't play any word games or tricks with you. If you forget something then just come back and ask. Do your best; there are no right or wrong ways of doing things. Understand?”

“Yes, James.” I sighed and relaxed. This is exactly what I wanted. I wanted to just do; follow someone else’s directions without thinking too much.

James pulled out his mobile. “I’m setting a timer for 55 minutes. We are finishing then, no matter what. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, James.”

He clicked his phone. “Our scene starts now.” He pulled a paperback out of his pocket and started reading it. “There is a kitchenette by where we come in. I want you to put on a pot of coffee. While it is brewing, I want you to go back into the kitchen. In the cupboard is a plate with tiny blue flowers on it. Put a variety of four biscuits on it: two types that you prefer, and two types you think I would prefer. Come back and put the biscuits on the table next to me. Pour me a coffee and add cream and sugar just as I like it. Now, will you have trouble sleeping if you have a coffee this late in the evening?”

“Probably, James.”

“Fine. Grab a bottle of water from the fridge when you get the biscuits. Do you have issues with your Dom feeding you? I know you had said no pet play.”

I flushed. “No, I don’t mind, I actually enjoy it,” I mumbled.

James smiled. “That’s good then. Okay, off you go. When you are done, come back and stand in front of me. There’s no rush so go slow and steady.”

“Yes, James.” My heart and head were singing. I was _doing_ for my Dom. I went over to the kitchenette and filled the coffee maker with water. I looked through the cupboards but I couldn’t find any coffee. Was this a trick? Was James setting me up to fail? I swallowed. I needed to trust what James said: no tricks, and if I had a problem to go back and ask. I took a deep breath and walked back over to James.

“Umm, James?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Amanda?”

“There’s no coffee in the kitchenette. Or I couldn’t find it. Or I can’t see it. I’m so sorry…”

“Amanda. Take a deep breath in, hold it and then blow it out.”

I did as James said.

“Now, you’ve done nothing wrong and there’s nothing to be nervous about. You did the right thing. You did exactly as I asked: you had a problem and you came back to me. That was perfect, darling.”

I let out another breath and relaxed.

“I have to apologize, I didn’t mean to set you up for failure. I think either Q or I forgot to buy more coffee for the kitchenette. Go in to the main kitchen and get coffee from there. We’ll get coffee for the kitchenette when we go shopping next. Now, go ahead and continue the tasks I want you to do for me.”

I nodded, smiling. I went and got the coffee brewing then I headed back into the kitchen. I got the plate James had specified, then went to the cupboard with all the snack foods. Shit. There were so many types of cookies! Q had a voracious sweet tooth, so James always made sure there were lots of choices for him. I looked though the various boxes and sleeves of cookies. I figured it would be easier to pick out what I liked first, then pick out what James would want. I picked out Jaffa cakes (I rationalized that they looked like a cookie) and chocolate covered digestives. I had to acknowledge that I had a bit of a weakness for chocolate.

Now, what would James prefer? I thought hard. I didn’t really remember seeing him eat cookies, but I tried to think of what I knew about him to deduce what he might like. He was very much not a sweets person; yes, he’d made semifreddo for our first meal here at the house, but he’d only had a tiny bit then. I’d also never seen him eat biscuits with his tea. Hmm. I looked through the cookies for some less sweet ones and I picked up some plain shortbread. They weren’t as cloyingly sweet as other cookies. Okay, that was one; one more to go. I picked up a roll of cookies: rich tea biscuits. Not terribly sweet, and not exactly my favourite, but I could certainly see James dunking them in his coffee.

I laid the cookies out in a neat pattern on the flowered plate, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and went back to the play house. I placed the plate and the water on the table and as I was walking back past James, he caught my eye and he reached out his hand. I put my hand in his; he kissed it and said, “Well done. Just my coffee left, right?”

  I smiled, blushed and nodded. I got his coffee and put it in the table as well, then stepped back and waited. He picked up his mug and had a sip. “That’s perfect. Now, I have another set of jobs for you to do before I feed you some water and biscuits. Can your back handle you rubbing my arm for me?”

“Um…maybe if you stand? If you want, I mean, or you can sit…”

“Not the right way to answer me. Now, answer me appropriately this time: can your back handle you rubbing my arm for me?”

  “I can do it if you stand. I think my back might spasm if I leaned over for too long.”

“Much, much better, Amanda. ‘No lies’ means also being as truthful and honest as you can.”

“Yes, James.”

“In the bedroom above is a cabinet with various creams. Pick one that you like and bring it back down. Go easy on the stairs.”

“Yes, James.”

I made my way up the stairs, found the cabinet, and stared at all the creams. I opened a few and sniffed them; it seemed there was every scent under the sun there. I ended up picking one that had goat milk in it and had a faint lanolin smell to it; lanolin was a happy smell to me as it always reminded me of wool. I made my way back downstairs and saw that James was standing in front of his chair with his sling and his shirt off.

“Ah, nice choice, that one. Rub my shoulder and upper arm; that would be lovely.”

I rubbed some of the thick cream between my hands to warm it up, then I started massaging the muscle at the top of James’ shoulder. It was very tight and I found if I rubbed too hard, James would take a small sharp breath in, so I gently rubbed tiny circles trying to get it to relax. I then rubbed the side of his shoulder, and did long strokes down the muscles of his upper arm. The scar from his surgery was healed but was red and flaky.

“Can I rub some cream on the scar or will that hurt it?” I asked, wanting to be safe.

“I’ve been neglecting it so a little cream would be most welcome.”

I lightly rubbed his scar then James put his shirt back on, rolling his shoulder back and forth afterwards.

“Well done. That feels so much better.”

I practically beamed that my Dom was _feeling better_. _James_ was feeling better because I did what he wanted me to.

James sat back down. “Do you think you can sit on the floor between my legs or will that be too hard on you?”

“I should be fine, but I may need some help getting up.”

“Good answer. Sit; I’d like to take care of you some now.”

James tossed some pillows on the floor, and I carefully sat down on them. It was a bit uncomfortable, but nothing painful.

“Colour?” James asked.

“Green, for now,” I replied.

“So, tell me why you picked out the biscuits you did,” he asked. I told him how I chose, and he laughed lightly. “Q is right; you do pay attention. You’re quite correct, I don’t really care for sweets, but you did pick out biscuits I would eat. Now, do you want a drink?”  

I nodded, but as soon as James got the bottle to my lips, the memory of Melissa giving me water while I was attached to Stephen’s rack floated through my mind, and I pulled back.

“Amanda? Colour?”

“Umm… steek?”

James pulled the bottle away from me and put it on the floor on the other side of his chair. “What is wrong? What did I do wrong?”

I took a deep breath in and let it out. “You didn’t do anything wrong, James. The water bottle just reminded me of the last time someone else gave me bottled water; Melissa gave it to me while I was still shackled up.”

“I’m so sorry, Amanda.” He petted my hair lightly. “I’m proud that you used your steek safe word, though. Very proud. From now on, glasses with straws. Will that work?”

  “Yes, James.” James slowly fed me some Jaffa cakes and digestives, wiping chocolate from my mouth with his thumb, laughing the whole time. “As much as I love feeding my subs, I don’t do the neatest job, I’m afraid.”

  I laughed back.

“Now, I want to take care of you, my sweet little sub. Take your shirt off for me.”

My brain unexpectedly panicked at the quick change. Oh. Oh. God, what was he going to do to me? Why does he want me naked? Oh God…

“Steek, James. Steek!”

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you want me to do I mean I don’t know what you want to do to me I don’t know…”

“Shhhh, love. Shhhh. It’s okay, it’s okay. I just am going to rub some cream on your scars. I bet they're itchy.”

  Oh. “Shit. Umm, sorry James. I, umm, just didn’t know, and we hadn’t talked about doing anything…”

“And we won’t do anything until we have talked. Can I put some cream on your back?”

I nodded and carefully took off my shirt and undid my bra. The cream was cold, and James was very gentle. He used both his hands, but I could tell his right one was stronger and he felt more confident with it. He didn’t rub too long, just enough for my skin to absorb the cream. He helped me do up my bra and get my shirt back on. He pulled me back in his legs, and I rested there as he petted my head while he finished his coffee. Every once in a while, he quietly told me how good I had done and how pleased he was with me. In the peace of my submission to him, I noticed the fluttering of soft emotions within me.

Too soon, though, the alarm on his phone went off. He finished his coffee and said, “How are you doing?”

  “Lovely, actually. A lot better.”

“That’s a good thing. I actually really enjoyed this too. I hope we’ll do this again?

”  I nodded in agreement.

“Only, the next time, let’s start less angry, okay?”

  I turned my face in to his leg and whispered out an “absolutely”. James just chuckled softly and petted my hair.

~~~~~

The next day was a typical grey and drizzly London day. I ended up having a nap on the couch and when I woke, I saw I missed 21 texts. _21_. That never happened; the only people who texted me were James and Q. I went into the messages app to see what I missed.

_(14:16) Where are you?_

Ah. James had texted Q through our group chat instead of texting Q directly.

**(14:16) Meeting. Go shoot something. ~Q**

_(14:17) Done that. Bored._

**(14:17) Go hit something. Busy. ~Q**

_(14:18) Done that too. Come on, leave mtg._

**(14:18) Can’t. ~Q**

_(14:18) YES._

**(14:19) NO. Stop txt’g. ~Q**

_(14:20) Please, love._

**(14:20) No. Go home. See Amanda.~Q**

_(14:21) You know I can’t do that._

Why can’t James come home? Does he actually not want to be with me here?

**(14:22) Talk. To. Her. You. Idiot.~Q**

_(14:22) Too soon._

What’s too soon?

**(14:27) How do you know? Psychic?~Q**

_(14:27) She yellowed during our scene._

Oh.

**(14:28) Did you fix it?~Q**

_(14:28) Yes._

**(14:29) Problem?~Q**

_(14:29) I don’t think she wants me to touch her._

Oh shit, James. _No_. It’s not like that at all.

**(14:30) Think? Talk. To. Her.~Q**

_(14:31) Not now. Later._

I realized all of us said we’d talk “later” about sex, but we never did. I had been waiting for them to start talking, and I guessed they were worried about me being ready. Well, fuck that shit. If James was too worried about talking to me, I’d talk to _him_.

**(14:32) Fine. Suffer. Stop txt’g me, tho. M giving me stink eye. ~Q**

It was now 15:00. Time to get this party of two started.

I had a quick shower and looked through my clothing. I didn’t really have any lingerie; my underclothing needed to be functional and cheap. My eye caught my oversized white button-down that I had worn to Martha’s for that shibari demonstration so long ago. It would do, with maybe the poppy-red pumps I wore the night they had wanted to meet me. I tossed on the shirt, only doing up a few buttons, and slipped on my shoes. I went downstairs and moved a chair from the living room so it was facing the door from the garage. I grabbed my mobile and sent James a private text.

**_(15:25) Busy at MI6?_ **

I was hoping that James hadn’t found something to do.

_(15:25) No. Problem?_

**_(15:25) Just lonely. Come home? Want to talk._**

I didn’t exactly want to _talk_ , but there should probably be at least a little so I wouldn’t be lying.

_(15:26) I’ll be there in 10._

I sat in the chair facing the garage, crossed my legs at the knee, and waited.

~~~~~

Exactly nine minutes later, James came through the garage door.

“Amanda? Is everything okay…” His voice trailed off and he skidded to a stop as he saw me. His eyes raked me up from my shoes to my head and back down. “I…uh…oh.”

I uncrossed my legs, and carefully stood up. “You know, James, you accidentally texted Q through our group chat this afternoon.”

“I…uh…”

I strode smoothly over to James, put my arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek, making sure I pressed my breasts into his chest.

“I’m to blame too,” I whispered in his ear, as I grabbed his tie and led him over to the chair I had been sitting in, pushing him back gently to sit down. I toed off my shoes and straddled him as he was reclining. “I should have said something earlier. I was waiting for you to be ready, but you never said anything so I assumed you weren’t.”

“Bloody hell, Amanda. I’ve been ready since Martha’s.” He rested his hands on my thighs and slowly caressed them right up to my hips and back down. “I should have said something sooner. We’ve wasted time, haven’t we?” He slid his hands back up my legs, around my hips, and gently over my back to pull me close to him.

“Hmm, we have,” I whispered back. “But right now, I want to be very, very clear so there’s no misunderstandings. I _trust_ you, James. You’ve only been truthful with me, and I know that. Now, because I trust you, I want to be honest with you. I want you, James. Desperately. Those kisses we shared at the Devil’s Harp gave me a taste and I want everything. I want to ride you so you see stars. I want to suck every brain cell out of your cock so you don’t even remember your name. I want you to shag my arse so hard, I’ll walk funny for a week. Questions?”

“Bloody hell, Amanda; the mouth on you.”

I leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth, then I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. “I said, ‘Questions?’”

“Only one. Care to move this upstairs?”

“Absolutely.”

~~~~~ 

We raced up the stairs to Q and James’ bedroom and as soon as we got there, James pulled me in close for a delicious, wet, completely filthy kiss. I broke the kiss to unbutton his shirt while he worked at getting his trousers off; thankfully he had already taken his shoes off downstairs. I slipped his shirt off his shoulders, and stopped a moment to let it glide off him to the floor. He then stroked his hands down my sides, then, bunching up the bottom, he pulled my shirt up and off me, tossing it randomly over his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” James whispered to me. His compliment made me feel uneasy, so I grabbed his head and pulled him into a brutal kiss. He kissed back while struggling to get his pants off. I released him from the kiss and slowly backed up to the bed, a glint in my eye. I hitched up onto the bed on my back, my arse close to the edge, and I pulled up my legs and rested my feet on the bed, giving James an eyeful. I leaned up on my forearms, and looking between my open legs at him, said, “Do you think you’re ready for this?”

James finally pushed his pants off, then he rushed over and kneeled on the floor in front me. He buried his face in my crotch, and licked me from my arsehole right up to my clit and a groan slipped involuntarily from my throat. With sparkling eyes, he looked back up at me from between my legs and said, “You’re so bloody wet, I could drown down here. I think you’re rather ready and I bloody well know I am.”

I laughed, easy and free, and laid back on the bed. I waggled my arse in temptation as James stood and pulled on my legs to bring me closer to him. From the smirk on his face, I could tell he was feeling playful; I was certain when he rubbed the tip of his penis just within my labia, ending up by flicking my clit. The wet firmness of James on my clit was so arousing I arched my hips forward involuntarily. He more than noticed my reaction and teased me again, circling my clit with his glans.

“James, please. Stop teasing and fuck me already,” I pleaded with him.

“Again, such a mouth. Too beautiful a mouth for such language.” I felt him tease me again and this time, he pulsed lightly into the opening of my vagina. God, I just wanted him to fill me up, I needed him so bad. Again, he ran the tip of his penis up and down my drenched labia, tantalizing and teasing.

“What do you want me to say, James? Do you want me to be polite? Fine. James, I would really quite enjoy it if you placed your erect penis in my hot-for-you vagina. Preferably over and over again until we both come. Better?”

  But he just bloody well kept teasing. I tried wrapping my legs around him and pumping my hips to bring him closer, but he had the advantage and just pulled away.

“Hmm. Not really. I want you to repeat after me: ‘I am beautiful and gorgeous and sensuous.’ Now you.”

I felt a cold wash flow over me and my hips stopped.

“No, James. Not now, please.”

“Just say it. Please.” He continued rubbing his erection all over my labia and randomly would press it over my clit or barely into my vagina. I could barely put two thoughts together; I just wanted JamesJamesJames nownownow. I was so desperate by his teasing that I tried everything I could to get him to slide that lovely hard cock deep in me: I writhed, I pulled him close with my legs, I pushed my hips towards him, all to no avail.

“I know you want this,” James thrust himself a tiny bit more into me, “just say what I want you to say and you’ll get it all and more.”

Fuck James and his teasing.

“James, fuck me now, please!”

He just tutted, leaned over, and started rubbing my breasts with his fingertips. “Not what I want you to say love. I know you can do it.”

He tweaked both nipples then simply laid his erection along the inside of my labia, the edge of his head flicking my clit with every stroke. God, the man was going to kill me. I was wriggling desperately trying to get enough friction to tip me over the edge into orgasm. I was able to do so for just a couple of strokes when James pulled back removing his penis from contact with me. He just kept rubbing and massaging my breasts, occasionally lightly tweaking a nipple. I felt so bloody empty, and he was right there, and I grabbed and reached for him, which he avoided easily.

“Come on, Amanda. Just say it and I’ll bury myself so deep in you…”

Fuck it all. I propped myself up, a flush of both arousal and embarrassment reddening my cheeks. “James, I… I…” I swallowed.

“That’s it love, you can do it. ‘I’m beautiful and gorgeous and sensuous.’” He started rubbing the tip of penis back up and down my labia, barely tracing the outside of them.

I flopped back on the bed, and covered my face with an arm. “I’m… beautiful…and ….gorgeous…and…sensuous. There. Happy?” 

“What do you think?” he replied with a heated smirk. James snapped his hips so his cock entered me, hard. Relief. God, he felt so fucking good… He lazily dragged his hands down my chest and abdomen to my hips, then he snapped his hips again. I had to groan out loud, he felt so good and large and he hit all the right spots…

“See what happens when you do what I ask? We both get pleasure from it,” he said softly. James let his hips go, and he smoothly pumped in and out of me. I wrapped my legs harder and harder around him, trying to get him to go deeper and deeper, when I realized the bed was making a hard knocking noise.

“James, are your knees hitting the bed?” I asked when my brain was able to figure out what the noise was: he had to bend his knees to get the proper angle to penetrate me.

“Hmm. A little, I guess. You’re…umm… a bit low.”

“Jesus Christ, James, why didn’t you say something?” I rolled my eyes at him and he just shrugged. “Do you think if I flip over on my hands and knees that will be better?”  

“We can give it a shot,” he replied, and slowly pulled himself out of me.

I felt bloody empty and yearning without him, so I took a deep breath and quickly flipped over, my feet hanging off the edge of the bed, my knees wide apart and my arse in the air for him. I heard him take a breath in, and felt his hands lightly touch my hips, but he didn’t make a move to do more.

“James? What is it? Is your arm sore or is something?”

“Your back,” he whispered.

_Oh God_. Shit. The scars on my back had totally turned him off. “Oh. Umm, yeah,” I mumbled. In shame, I went to roll over and off the bed when James grabbed my hips and stopped me.

“Where’re you going?” He was rubbing gentle circles over my hips and down the sides of my legs. I looked over my shoulder at him. “I’m guessing my back is turning you off and you’re not in the mood anymore. I understand.” I went to move again, but instead, he leaned deeply over me and kissed my face.

“It’s not that. I’m just so overwhelmed; you’ve done so much for us, and you’ve been through so much, and you trust me so much, I…”

I turned my head more, looked at James’ sad eyes, and smiled. “James, I do trust you or I wouldn’t be here right now.” I pushed myself up on my hands and I arched up my head to reach him, and he sank down to me. I kissed him softly, then rested my forehead on his. “And as for the rest, well, I’ve done what I’ve done. Now, do you think, lovely James, that we can get back to what we were doing? My vagina is feeling rather lonely without your cock in it.”

“Cheek,” he said, smiling. He kissed the tip of my nose and straightened back up. He gently put his hands on my shoulders, and lightly traced his hands down my back, over the ugly and raised scars. “You’re gorgeous all over,” and he slid firmly into me.

I sighed and arched into him, relaxing my arms so my face and chest was on the bed. He went slowly, but slow was not what I wanted so I hooked my feet around his legs and forced myself back against him with every stroke. He groaned, but soon he got the idea and his hips pumped faster and harder. He was slick and smooth and hard and thick; it’d been a long time since I’d had sex, and he fit so perfectly with me, rubbing and stretching and nudging all the right spots, I was soon close to release.

“James…I…James…” I managed to breathe out.

“S’okay love, just let go.” I felt my release curl and lick in my pelvis, then suddenly I clenched and spasmed, arching and bowing my back involuntarily as my release took me by surprise. I arched once more, heard a shout from James, and felt him thicken inside me, his own orgasm causing his legs to twitch randomly. I pushed back and down and clenched my pelvic muscles tight, trying to extend James’ orgasm as long as I could, until he lightly tapped my hip.

“Stop, Amanda. Stop, stop, please.” I let my muscles soften and relax and James carefully pulled himself out of me, hissing at the remaining sensitivity in cock. I tipped over onto my side, and James flopped down on his back next to me, his legs hanging off the bed. He lifted one hand and brushed the hair from my face; I gently trapped one finger in my mouth and slowly suckled it until James groaned and reluctantly pulled it away.

We lay quietly together until our breathing slowed and our brains returned to normal. I leaned up on one arm and took my fill at looking at James next to me. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly; many of the rough edges of his features had softened, and a light smile touched his lips. His skin was honey-coloured and he had coarse golden hair covering his chest and down his arms; he had bare patches where there were scars. His abdomen was flat, and a trail of darker curly hair started at his navel and widened down to a thick thatch that surrounded a softening penis. I saw that the tip of his penis was dripping slightly and his scrotum was covered in come, so I padded over to the ensuite and grabbed a flannel, moistened it with hot water, and returned to James. I wiped him up gently, gave myself a wipe and tossed the flannel in the laundry hamper.

“Come on James, straighten yourself out and get your legs on the bed.”

I patted him on the hip then pulled open the duvet while James wriggled himself up the bed. We crawled under the covers; James laid on his back and I curled up next to him, my head on his chest and his arm under my neck. He lazily drew random circles on my back, barely touching my scars, but he was touching them and I was more than okay with that. His stroking was soothing and relaxing, and I shuffled a bit more onto my stomach and curled up with my face in his armpit, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, and kept rubbing and stroking. As long as it had been since I’d had sex, it had been even longer since anyone had touched my back voluntarily. I sighed, then breathed in James’ musky male scent from his pit; he smelled lightly of deodorant and a touch earthy, not a bad combination at all.

“Can you breathe in there?” James asked, chuckling softly.

I murmured that I was fine, sighed again and relaxed. I wasn’t sure how long we rested there in the quiet; time seemed to hold still and the world was far away. It wasn’t until I heard the faint squeak of a door and James stilling his hand that I realized something was going on. Someone else was here too.

“Finally,” I heard Q’s voice drift from the door.

I rolled over onto my back and lifted my head. “Umm, oh,” I managed to stutter out. I was mostly sure that Q wouldn’t have a problem with James and I having sex, but I was in their bed, and the theoretical was always different than having it right before you, in the flesh, so to speak. I was worried what I would see when I looked at Q’s face but I needn’t have; he looked rather bemused. He was leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed in front of him.

“James finally talk to you?” Q asked with a smirk.

“I…uh…no. I kind of read the texts you two had on the group chat this afternoon, and I decided to um…bring up the topic.”

“Smart woman. I was hoping that’s what would happen.” Q started taking his light cardigan off.

“You knew?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course I did. I saw James had started his text in the group chat; I just didn’t say anything, hoping something like this would finally happen. By the way, you and I have never had a real chat either. Up for that now?” His hand hesitated on his tie for a moment.

“Has anything changed since our time at my flat?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “We just didn’t really talk about specifics that much.”

I patted the bed beside me. “Strip off and come here beside me.”

Q gave me a smile brighter than the sun, and stripped off quickly, although he nearly fell over getting one of his socks off. I heard James chuckle, and I turned my head to him and said, “James? Is this okay? I mean…”

He kissed me softly on the forehead. “Of course it is. It’s not like this is unexpected, right?”  

I sighed in relief. Q slipped under the duvet next to me, so I was sandwiched between the two gorgeous men in my life.

“Now,” I started. “What do we need to talk about?”

"Can we talk about last night?" Q asked.

I sighed. "I really am sorry I was being a petulant child. It's just, I've been trying to show you both, I guess too subtly, that I was ready to do more with both of you. I _want_ to do more with both of you."

"I kind of thought so, but James wasn't sure so we both hesitated. I guess all of our communication leaves something to be desired." Q sighed. "So what do you want?"

"Sex outside of a scene is most certainly something I want, if both of you are up for that."

"Does that include a threesome between all of us?" James asked.

I grinned. "I hadn't thought that far ahead, but I'm ready for that if you both are." I looked at James then back over to Q; they both had smiled and nodded.

"So what about in scenes?" Q asked next.

"As long as we stick to our known limits, I'm ready for anything," I answered.

"Are you sure?" James asked. "It hasn't been that long since you were kidnapped."

I rested my palm against his cheek. "Yes, I'm sure.” He gave me a quick peck to the palm of my hand.

“Just don’t forget, you promised to tell Q the difference between submitting and slavery to you.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” I turned slightly to Q, and explained to him what I had explained to James last night, and he replied that he understood. Q propped himself up on one arm and was looking at James, a huge grin on his face. He cocked an eyebrow up at James, and James smiled right back at him. I looked back and forth between the two men, trying to read their non-verbal communication, but I was lost.

“What are you two up to?” I asked.

“Well, we are all in bed together,” Q said with a slight smirk.

“Indeed we are, love,” replied James.

Q turned his head to look at me. “Well, Amanda. We’ve got a nice little sandwich going on here. And you are a rather delectable filling. James and I would…”

I lifted an eyebrow at Q.

“…like to please _you._ ”

“Umm…James?” I said, turning my face to him. “You just did please me, quite nicely too.”

James just grinned back. “Not up for more?”

I had to blush; I was absolutely ready for another round.

“Well, then, just think of this as a learning opportunity for Q and I. Time saving and all that to have both of us learning about your body at the same time.” James waggled an eyebrow at me. “Well?”

For some reason, all of a sudden I felt shy. Here I was, between two handsome men, who both wanted to have my pleasure as their focus. I flicked my eyes over to Q, who was smiling gently at me. As he touched my hip very lightly, he relaxed back onto the bed, and cuddled his face right into my neck, kissing me softly. It felt lovely and gentle. I sighed, and looked over to James; now I was blushing with an unusual combination of arousal and shyness. James kissed me lightly on the lips, and reached up to make tiny circles with his fingertips around my nipple.

“Well?” James said, a spark lighting in his eyes as he finished kissing me.

“I…don’t know,” I finally admitted.

“What don’t you know?” Q whispered into my ear.

“This. Both of you. Now.”

“Ever been in bed with two men before?” James asked quietly.

I shook my head no.

“Do you trust us?”

I looked at both James’ sparkling eyes, and then over to Q's soft and dreamy ones. I did trust them. Both. Implicitly. I gave a nod. James kissed my lips while Q continued nuzzling on neck. It was exquisite; the contact of both them with me was arousing and distracting and delicious. James lifted his lips from mine.

“Neither of us will ever hurt you. Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. Just enjoy.”

He gently took both my hands, and rested them on the pillow above my head. My eyes drifted closed as I let my hands touch the headboard, and I tried to relax.

James was on my left; Q on my right. At first, the difference of sensations created by each man was noticeable. James seemed to touch me randomly, kissing me in unexpected spots and using his whole hand in all sorts of different ways to stroke me. Q, on the other hand, took a more “work from the top” approach: he kissed and touched my head and neck first, then lazily worked his way down to my chest, my breast, my abdomen then my hip. I started relaxing more and more; my arousal a dull, warm flush low in my groin. James and Q were soothing me; caring about me. They were _cherishing_ me.

James was the first to say something. “Soft and lovely,” he said, nuzzling into my hip, his hand rubbing my knee and shin.

Q hummed in response, then murmured, “Bloody delicious, too,” as he mouthed my tummy.

I could feel both James and Q each touching one of my legs: James palming long strokes up and back down, while Q seemed to draw random lines all over with his finger tips. My legs naturally relaxed open, just a bit. I heard someone draw in a quick breath, but the stroking of my legs just continued.

However, I soon noticed that now James and Q were working in tandem; they were mirroring each other’s stroking and were slowly working their way back up my body. As I was starting to get used to their easy touches, I was suddenly surprised by both of them licking my nipples at once. I gasped and my eyes flew open to see both of them with their mouths sucking my nipples, both set of eyes dancing with delight.

My arousal spiked from a dull flush to a sharp intensity with both of them kissing and licking my breasts. I could feel myself get more and more wet, more and more engorged with blood and heat and thought left my brain. I sighed, and let my eyes drift closed again, and just let myself enjoy the pleasure the men were giving me. James nipped, and Q flicked his tongue, and I just had to laugh and gasp at the sensations. My legs drifted open a little more, my knees bending slightly.

Both exchanged their mouths for their hands, and they slowly kneaded my breasts and teased my nipples with tiny pinches and flicks. I had always enjoyed my breasts being touched by my lover, but somehow having them touched by two different men at the same time was more arousing than if one lover was using both hands. I arched my back, desperately trying to push my breasts into their hands in encouragement. They happily obliged, and soft moans escaped unbidden from my throat. Having James and Q both touching me at the same time was unbelievably arousing; it was as if desire shot straight down from my nipples to my groin. I sighed and wiggled my hips, trying to get their attention to focus on an area somewhat quite a bit lower. My labia felt flushed and full and I knew I was wet as I could feel the coolness of the air on my dampness because the duvet had become disheveled.

James continued massaging and playing with my one breasts as I vaguely noticed Q was no longer doing the same. His hand had trailed down over my abdomen, and he was lightly petting my pubic hair. As much as I tried to focus on the individual sensations both James and Q were creating, my arousal was starting to make my brain fuzzy as I fell into the feelings of warmth, and heat and feeling empty and full all at the same time…

James nuzzled his nose through my hair and onto my neck, and continued softly and gently playing with my breast. Q, too, started nuzzling my neck, but his fingertips ever so gently traced the outside of my labia, dragging though the moisture and spreading it all over.

“James, Amanda is so fucking _wet_ for us,” he murmured. “You really have to feel for yourself.” Q pulled his hand upward, tucking one finger into the fold where my labia came together. James lightly trailed his hand down from my breast, along my side and over my hip, then down between my legs. I felt him glide his hand over Q’s, then down over my labia just as softly and gently as Q had just done.

“Quite right, love. You’re quite right.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, but I just didn’t care. Q was slowly fingering the top of my labia while James was stroking the rest. Intoxicating just couldn’t fully explain the sensation; I felt drugged on all the arousal. I pulled my knees up and rested my feet on the bed, letting my legs lean on both men.

“Over you come, Amanda,” Q said, and both he and James lifted my legs so they were draped over each man's thighs. I was spread wide open and stretched out and my brain just stopped working and focusing on individual touches.

A finger stroked my clit, and another pulsed lightly into my vagina; I pushed my hips down to reach for the increase in arousal that seemed just out of reach.

Q said, “I think she wants us to do a bit more, what do you think?” and I heard James hum in agreement.

Slow flicking of my clit and careful pumping in and out of my vagina was making me groan in frustration. I wanted more; I needed more. “Please,” I begged. “Please.”

Hands and fingers touched my labia, my clit, my vagina, and my perineum in a orchestra of arousing and heated sensation. It was brilliant, it was edging on overwhelming. The feelings pushed and pulled, spinning my arousal harder and faster. I dripped, and hands slid the moisture around, seemingly increasing my erogenous zones larger and larger until everywhere between my legs was tight and hot.

I knew I started to beg and babble softly, wanting so much for their hands to lead me to orgasm.

“What do you think, Q? Ready?”  

I didn't hear Q’s reply, but I did notice a more focused effort between my legs. A finger massaged and rubbed my clit, more fingers pumped in and out of my vagina, and one finger trailed lower, gently pulsing against my anus. My hips had started flowing back and forth, and both men had bent up their knees to open me wider and wider. Soon, I was stretched open so tight, and they had their legs positioned so firmly I couldn’t do anything other than keep trying to open more. They didn’t let my legs relax back down, and soon my hips were so wide I could barely move.

In a coordinated movement, both men sucked my nipples. Hard. The fingers inside my vagina pressed hard against my G-spot, and the finger over my clit thrummed and flicked as fast as a a hummingbird’s wings. The one more pulse, a hard flicking of fingers and teeth and my orgasm rushed through me like an electrical current flowing out from between my legs down through my toes and up out my chest. I arched, I screamed, and my hands came down from the headboard and pulled the hair of both men. The moment was timeless and weightless; my world narrowed down to my orgasm.

Hands and fingers teased and massaged me right through my release and all the long-lingering aftershocks. I couldn’t make a coherent thought; my brain had simply shut down in the best way possible.

Fuck. How could I ever gotten so lucky? The two men next to me were so bloody talented; I hadn’t had an orgasm like that in years; even from my own hands.

“Breathe, love,” I heard Q whisper to me. “Breathe. It’s all you have to do right now.”

Slowly, hands were removed from between my legs, and I floated in the warm white space of afterglow. I felt nothing, but it was the best kind of nothing: I held no tension in my body and I had no worries or concerns floated through my mind.

I stayed in that state for an unknown length of time, but it was long enough that as my brain start to form coherent thoughts, I noticed that somehow Q was now between James and I.

Soft moans and groans told me that James and Q were enjoying each other now, and I opened an eye and peered curiously over to them. Q’s back was to me, and heard James tell him that he was ready for and wanted more, now. I lifted up on one elbow to see what was going on, and I smiled as I saw Q’s fingers in James’ arse.

I was feeling more grounded in the world, and I wanted the boys to have a good time too. I couldn’t reach James, but I _could_ touch Q. I relaxed back and gently started touching Q’s back. I heard a soft moan from Q and he pushed his back towards me. I stroked him again, slowly making my way down to his plush arse. I lightly massaged and kneaded while I looked around for lubricant. Thankfully, Q had pushed a bottle between the mattress and the headboard. I grabbed it, and set it on the bed next to me.

I slowly dragged my hand to Q cleft, slowly stroking down it once. I heard a quick intake of breath, and I heard James say, “Q? Why did you stop?” 

Q replied, “Amanda. She’s back with us. And she wants to do to me what I am doing to you. Am I right, Amanda?”

  I reached up and kissed Q on the ear. “I do, Q. Will you let me?”

He gave a sigh and a nod. “Just let me…get going…with James, first.”

As Q refocused on James, I slowly massaged Q’s back and buttocks. I heard a quick “ready, love?” from Q, and then watched the muscles of his back and arse clench and arch. I heard a soft sigh from James, and everything was still for a few moments.

“Okay, love. Go ahead.”

I watched as Q hips started to move slowly. In and out, like a flowing tide, watching Q’s back was mesmerizing. But I soon saw his hips pick up the pace, so I lubed a finger and dragged it back down the cleft of his arse. I felt rather than saw the pucker, but as soon as I touched it, I heard Q give a deep, rumbling groan. I gently patted his hole with just a fingertip a few times, then slowly slid my finger in to the first knuckle. Q let out a moan and his hips snapped forward; James gave a shout and swore loudly as he came.

“Q love, harder now. Come on now,” I heard James mumble. Q picked up the pace, fucking James on one part of the stroke, and fucking himself back onto my finger on the other. Within a few strokes I felt Q tighten, then with a scream of something unintelligible, I felt the fluttering of his orgasm around my finger. I pumped in and out slowly, until Q begged me to stop, and I carefully pulled my finger out.

While the men were floating in their after-orgasm sensations, I got up, washed my hands and got some wet flannels for them. I kneeled over on the floor near James, and did my best to carefully wipe the come from his abdomen and the sheets in front of him. Q was still buried in James’ arse, so I simply placed the wet cloth in his hand for when he needed it.

~~~~~

While Q and James were resting, I tiptoed out of bed to get us all something to eat and drink. I certainly didn’t feel like cooking, and James was definitely in no state to do so either. I tossed on a robe and headed down to the kitchen. I collected up some bottles of water and some finger food: cheese cubes, slices of ham and salami, and grapes, then I headed back upstairs.

I had partly shut the bedroom door against the light of the sitting area when I had left, and I poked my nose into the bedroom to see if they were awake. They were, and what I saw took my breath away.

James had rolled over and was now facing Q. I couldn’t see Q's face, but I most definitely could see James’. His eyes were glowing and so filled with love my heart caught in my throat. He looked like pure joy, and when he took Q’s face in his hands and kissed him, I swear that the universe was blessing their union. It was a magical moment like the ones you normally hear of in fairy tales and romance novels, but never seem to happen in real life.

I backed away from the door. I was deliriously happy for them; a quote from the Princess Bride floated through my head: “You truly love each other? Then you might have been truly happy! No couple in a century has that chance, no matter what the storybooks say”. I leaned back against the wall for a moment. Perhaps not one couple in a century might have the chance, but somehow Q and James had found each other, and even if they had their problems, they did truly love each other. I saw it every day in the way they looked at each other, the way they cared for each other and the tiny things they did for each other.

No matter how long I stayed, no matter how long I let them Dom me, I’d never be able to become a part of that, and it broke my heart.

I had no doubts at all that either Q or James or both would get bored and tired of me: my homely looks, my tame kinks, my bland personality. As well, we were in a closed relationship. I knew if it came down for either to go somewhere with a partner they would choose each other, never me. My friendship and my submission could never compete with love. I would always end up on the outside.

My eyes welled up even as I got angry with myself. Neither had ever said they were looking for love; they had always said they were looking for a relationship. Due to how we met, in the best case scenario, I knew I could only expect a friends-with-BDSM-benefits arrangement. But underneath it all I'd had a tiny bud of hope. With each man, I knew I was starting to feel more than simple friendship for them. They each had their flaws, but their good sides so overwhelmed them. If I was honest with myself, it would very easy for me to fall in love with both men, and truly I already was half way there already. I was a fool, and I knew I was beyond redemption.

I wiped my eyes with the heel of my hand, and took some deep breaths to calm my swirling emotions. I might never be the focus of their love, but I could try be what they needed for as long as they wanted, damn my emotions. I slapped a smile on my face, and pushed the door of the bedroom open.


End file.
